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(gugli0l)  Mtn  of  Cetter© 

EDITED  BY  JOHN  MOELEY 


(TJ1TI7ERSITY) 


ADDISON 


BY 


W.  J.  COURTHOPE 


NEW   YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

FKANKLIN     SQUAEE 
1886 


ENGLISH   MEN  OF  LETTERS. 

Edited  by  John  Morley. 


Johnson Leslie  Stephen. 

Gibbon J.  C.  Morison. 

Scott R.  H.  Hutton. 

Shelley J.  A.  Symonds. 

HiTME T.  H.  Huxley. 

Goldsmith William  Black. 

Defoe William  Minto. 

Burns J.  C.  Shairp. 

Spenser R.  W.  Church. 

Thackeray Anthony  Trollope. 

Burke John  Morley. 

Milton Mark  Pattison. 

Hawthorne Henry  James,  Jr. 

SouTHEY E.  Dowden. 

Chaucer A.  W.  Ward. 

Bunyan J.  A.  Froude. 

Cowper Goldwin  Smith. 

Pope Leshe  Stephen. 


Bvron John  Nichol. 

Locke Thomas  Fowler. 

Wordsworth F.  Myers. 

Dryden G.  Saintsbury. 

Landor Sidney  Colvin. 

De  Quincey David  Masson. 

Lamb Alfred  Ainger. 

Bentley R.  C.  Jebb. 

Dickens A.  W.  Ward. 

Gray E.  W.  Gosse. 

Swift Leslie  Stephen. 

Sterne H.  D.  Traill. 

Macaulay J.  Cotter  Morison. 

Fielding Austin  Dobson. 

Sheridan  Mrs.  Oliphant. 

Addison W.  J.  Courthope. 

Bacon R.  W.  Church. 

Coleridge H.  D.  Traill. 


i2mo,  Cloth,  75  cents_per  volume. 


its  pe: 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

1^"  Any  of  the  above  works  will  be  sent  by  mail^  postage  pre/>aid,  to  any  part 
of  the  United  States^  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

The  State  of  English  Society  and  Letters  after 
THE  Restoration 1 

CHAPTER  II. 
Addison's  Family  and  Education 31 

CHAPTER  III. 
Addison  ON  His  Travels 38 

CHAPTER  IV. 
His  Employment  in  Affairs  of  State 63 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  ''Tatler"  and  ''Spectator" 7S    ^ 

CHAPTER  VI. 
"Cato" 110 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Addison's  Quarrel  with  Pope 125 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Last  Years  of  His  Life 139 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Genius  of  Addison 153 


p*    TUB.  ^ 

■ERSIT' 
ADDISON. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE    STATE    OF   ENGLISH    SOCIETY   AND    LETTERS    AFTER 
THE   RESTORATION. 

Of  the  four  English  men  of  letters  whose  writings  most 
fully  embody  the  spirit  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  one 
who  provides  the  biographer  with  the  scantiest  materials 
is  Addison.  In  his  Journal  to  Stella,  his  social  verses, 
and  his  letters  to  his  friends,  we  have  a  vivid  picture  of 
those  relations  with  women  and  that  protracted  suffering 
which  invest  with  such  tragic  interest  the  history  of  Swift. 
Pope,  by  the  publication  of  his  own  correspondence,  has 
enabled  us,  in  a  way  that  he  never  intended,  to  understand 
the  strange  moral  twist  which  distorted  a  nature  by  no 
means  devoid  of  noble  instincts.  Johnson  was  fortunate 
in  the  companionship  of  perhaps  the  best  biographer  who 
ever  lived.  But  of  the  real  life  and  character  of  Addison 
scarcely  any  contemporary  record  remains.  The  formal 
narrative  prefixed  to  his  works  by  Tickell  is,  by  that  writ- 
er's own  admission,  little  more  than  a  bibliography.  Steele, 
who  might  have  told  us  more  than  any  man  about  his  boy- 
hood and  his  manner  of  life  in  London,  had  become  es- 
tranged from  his  old  friend  before  his  death.     No  writer 


2  ADDISON.  *"  [CHAP. 

has  taken  the  trouble  to  preserve  any  account  of  the  wit 
and  wisdom  that  enlivened  the  "  little  senate  "  at  Button's. 
His  own  letters  are,  as  a  rule,  compositions  as  finished  as 
his  papers  in  the  Spectator.  Those  features  in  his  charac- 
ter which  excite  the  greatest  interest  have  been  delineated 
by  the  band  of  an  enemy — an  enemy  Avho  possessed  an 
unrivalled  power  of  satirical  portrait-painting,  and  was  re- 
strained by  no  regard  for  truth  from  creating  in  the  pub- 
lic mind  such  impressions  about  others  as  might  serve  to 
heighten  the  favourable  opinion  of  himself. 

This  absence  of  dramatic  incident  in  Addison's  life 
would  lead  us  naturally  to  conclude  that  he  was  deficient 
in  the  energy  and  passion  which  cause  a  powerful  nature 
to  leave  a  mark  upon  its  age.  Yet  such  a  judgment  would 
certainly  be  erroneous.  Shy  and  reserved  as  he  was,  the 
unanimous  verdict  of  his  most  illustrious  contemporaries 
is  decisive  as  to  the  respect  and  admiration  which  he  ex- 
cited among  them.  The  man  who  could  exert  so  potent 
an  influence  over  the  mercurial  Steele,  who  could  fascinate 
the  haughty  and  cynical  intellect  of  Swift,  whose  conver- 
sation, by  the  admission  of  his  satirist  Pope,  had  in  it 
something  more  charming  than  that  of  any  other  man ; 
of  whom  it  was  said  that  he  might  have  been  chosen  king 
if  he  wished  it ;  such  a  man,  though  to  the  coarse  percep- 
tion of  Mandeville  he  might  have  seemed  no  more  than 
"  a  parson  in  a  tye-wig,"  can  hardly  have  been  deficient  in 
force  of  character. 

Nor  would  it  have  been  possible  for  a  writer  distin- 
guished by  mere  elegance  and  refinement  to  leave  a  last- 
ing impress  on  the  literature  and  society  of  his  country. 
In  one  generation  after  another,  men  representing  oppos- 
ing elements  of  rank,  class,  interest,  and  taste,  have  agreed 
in  acknowledging  Addison's  extraordinary  merits.    "  Who- 


I.]  LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.  3 

ever  wishes,"  says  Johnson  —  at  the  end  of  a  biography 
strongly  coloured  with  the  prepossessions  of  a  semi-Jacob- 
ite Tory — "whoever  wishes  to  attain  an  English  style,  fa- 
miliar but  not  coarse,  and  elegant  but  not  ostentatious, 
must  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  volumes  of  Addison." 
"Such  a  mark  of  national  respect,"  says  Macaulay,  the 
best  representative  of  middle-class  opinion  in  the  present 
century,  speaking  of  the  statue  erected  to  Addison  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  "  was  due  to  the  unsullied  statesman,  to 
the  accomplished  scholar,  to  the  master  of  pure  English 
eloquence,  to  the  consummate  painter  of  life  and  manners. 
It  was  due,  above  all,  to  the  great  satirist  who  alone  knew 
how  to  use  ridicule  without  abusing  it;  who,  without  in- 
flicting a  wound,  effected  a  great  social  reform,  and  who 
reconciled  wit  and  virtue  after  a  long  and  disastrous  sepa- 
ration, during  which  wit  had  been  led  astray  by  profligacy, 
and  virtue  by  fanaticism." 

This  verdict  of  a  great  critic  is  accepted  by  an  age  to 
which  the  grounds  of  it  are,  perhaps,  not  very  apparent. 
The  author  of  any  ideal  creation — a  poem,  a  drama,  or  a 
novel — has  an  imprescriptible  property  in  the  fame  of  his 
work.     But  to  harmonise  conflicting  social  elements,  to^ 
bring  order  out  of  chaos  in  the  sphere  of  criticism,  to  form  / 
right  ways  of  thinking  about  questions  of  morals,  taste,  T 
and  breeding,  are  operations  of  which  the  credit,  though  | 
it  is  certainly  to  be  ascribed  to  particular  individuals,  is 
generally  absorbed  by  society  itself.     Macaulay's  eulogy  is 
as  just  as  it  is  eloquent,  but  the  pages  of  the  Spectator 
alone  will  hardly  show  the  reader  why  Addison  should  be 
so  highly  praised  for  having  reconciled  wit  with  virtue. 
Nor,  looking  at  him  as  a  critic,  will  it  appear  a  great 
achievement  to  have  pointed  out  to  English  society  the 
beauties  of  Paradise  Lost,  unless  it  be  remembered  that 
1* 


4  ADDISON.  [chap. 

the  taste  of  the  preceding  generation  still  influenced  Addi- 
son's contemporaries,  and  that  in  that  generation  Cowley 
was  accounted  a  greater  poet  than  Milton. 

To  estimate  Addison  at  his  real  value  we  must  regard 
him  as  the  chief  architect  of  Public  Opinion  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  But  here  again  we  are  met  by  an  initial 
difficulty,  because  it  has  become  almost  a  commonplace  of 
contemporary  criticism  to  represent  the  eighteenth  century 
as  a  period  of  sheer  destruction.  It  is  tacitly  assumed  by 
a  school  of  distinguished  philosophical  writers  that  we 
have  arrived  at  a  stage  in  the  world's  history  in  which  it  is 
possible  to  take  a  positive  and  scientific  view  of  human 
affairs.  As  it  is  of  course  necessary  that  from  such  a 
system  all  belief  in  the  supernatural  shall  be  jealously  ex- 
cluded, it  has  not  seemed  impossible  to  write  the  history 
of  Thought  itself  in  the  eighteenth  century.  And  in  tra- 
cing the  course  of  this  supposed  continuous  stream  it  is  nat- 
ural that  all  the  great  English  writers  of  the  period  should 
be  described  as  in  one  way  or  another  helping  to  pull  down, 
or  vainly  to  strengthen,  the  theological  barriers  erected  by 
centuries  of  bigotry  against  the  irresistible  tide  of  enlight- 
ened progress. 

It  would  be  of  course  entirely  out  of  place  to  discuss 
here  the  merits  of  this  new  school  of  history.  Those  wh® 
consider  that,  whatever  glimpses  we  may  obtain  of  the  law 
and  order  of  the  universe,  man  is,  as  he  always  has  been 
and  always  will  be,  a  mystery  to  himself,  will  hardly  allow 
that  the  operations  of  the  human  spirit  can  be  traced  in 
the  dissecting-room.  But  it  is,  in  any  case,  obvious  that 
to  treat  the  great  imaginative  writers  of  any  age  as  if  they 
were  only  mechanical  agents  in  an  evolution  of  thought  is 
to  do  them  grave  injustice.  Such  writers  are,  above  all 
things,  creative.     Their  first  aim  is  to  "  show  the  very  age 


I.]       LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.        5 

and  body  of  tlie  time  his  form  and  pressure."  No  work 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  composed  in  a  consciously  de- 
structive spirit,  has  taken  its  place  among  the  acknowl- 
edged classics  of  the  language.  Even  the  Tale  of  a  Tub 
is  to  be  regarded  as  a  satire  upon  the  aberrations  of  theo- 
logians from  right  reason,  not  upon  the  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity itself.  The  Essay  on  Man  has,  no  doubt,  logically 
a  tendency  towards  Deism,  but  nobody  ever  read  the  poem 
for  the  sake  of  its  philosophy ;  and  it  is  well  known  that 
Pope  was  much  alarmed  when  it  was  pointed  out  to  him 
that  his  conclusions  might  be  represented  as  incompatible 
with  the  doctrines  of  revealed  religion. 

The  truth  indeed  seems  to  be  the  exact  converse  of  what 
is  alleged  by  the  scientific  historians.  So  far  from  the 
eighteenth  century  in  England  being  an  age  of  destructive 
analysis,  its  energies  were  chiefly  devoted  to  political,  so- 
cial, and  literary  reconstruction.  Whatever  revolution  in 
faith  and  manners  the  English  nation  had  undergone  had 
been  the  w^ork  of  the  two  preceding  centuries,  and  though 
the  historic  foundations  of  society  remained  untouched, 
the  whole  form  of  the  superstructure  had  been  profoundly 
modified. 

"  So  tenacious  are  we,"  said  Burke,  towards  the  close  of  the  last 
century, "  of  our  old  ecclesiastical  modes  and  fashions  of  institution 
that  very  little  change  has  been  made  in  them  since  the  fourteenth  or 
fifteenth  centuries,  adhering  in  this  particular  as  in  all  else  to  our 
old  settled  maxim  never  entirely  nor  at  once  to  depart  from  antiquity. 
We  found  these  institutions  on  the  whole  favourable  to  morality  and 
discipline,  and  we  thought  they  were  susceptible  of  amendment  with- 
out altering  the  ground.  We  thought  they  were  capable  of  receiving 
and  meliorating,  and,  above  all,  of  preserving  the  accessories  of  sci- 
ence and  literature  as  the  order  of  Providence  should  successively 
produce  them.  And  after  all,  with  this  Gothic  and  monkish  educa- 
tion (for  such  it  is  the  groundwork),  we  may  put  in  our  claim  to  as 


6  ADDISON.  [chap. 

ample  and  early  a  share  in  all  the  improvements  in  science,  in  arts, 
and  in  literature  which  have  illuminated  the  modern  world  as  any 
other  nation  in  Europe.  We  think  one  main  cause  of  this  improve- 
ment was  our  not  despising  the  patrimony  of  knowledge  which  was 
left  us  by  our  forefathers." 

All  this  is,  in  substance,  true  of  our  political  as  well  as 
our  ecclesiastical  institutions.  And  yet,  when  Burke  wrote, 
the  great  feudal  and  mediaeval  structure  of  England  had 
been  so  transformed  by  the  Wars  of  the  Koses,  the  Eefor- 
mation,  the  Kebellion,  and  the  Revolution,  that  its  ancient 
outlines  were  barely  visible.  In  so  far,  therefore,  as  his 
words  seem  to  imply  that  the  social  evolution  he  describes 
was  produced  by  an  imperceptible  and  almost  mechanical 
process  of  national  instinct,  the  impression  they  tend  to 
create  is  entirely  erroneous. 

If  we  have  been  hitherto  saved  from  such  corruption  as 
undermined  the  republics  of  Italy,  from  the  religious  wars 
that  so  long  enfeebled  and  divided  Germany,  and  from  the 
Revolution  that  has  severed  modern  France  from  her  an- 
cient history,  thanks  for  this  are  due  partly,  no  doubt,  to 
favouring  conditions  of  nature  and  society,  but  quite  as 
much  to  the  genius  of  great  individuals  who  prepared  the 
mind  of  the  nation  for  the  gradual  assimilation  of  new 
ideas.  Thus  Langland  and  Wycliffe  and  their  numerous 
followers,  long  before  the  Reformation,  had  so  familiarised 
the  minds  of  the  people  with  their  ideas  of  the  Christian 
religion  that  the  Sovereign  was  able  to  assume  the  Head- 
ship of  the  Church  without  the  shock  of  a  social  convul- 
sion. Fresh  feelings  and  instincts  grew  up  in  the  hearts 
of  whole  classes  of  the  nation  without  at  first  producing 
any  change  in  outward  habits  of  life,  and  even  without 
arousing  a  sense  of  their  logical  incongruity.  These  mixed 
ideas  were  constantly  brought  before  the  imagination  in 


I.]       LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.        1 

the  works  of  the  poets.  Shakespeare  abounds  with  pas- 
sages in  which,  side  by  side  with  the  old  feudal,  monarchi- 
cal; catholic,  and  patriotic  instincts  of  Englishmen,  we  find 
the  sentiments  of  the  Italian  Renaissance.  Speuser  con- 
veys Puritan  doctrines  sometimes  by  the  mouth  of  shep- 
herds, whose  originals  he  had  found  in  Theocritus  and  Vir- 
gil ;  sometimes  under  allegorical  forms  derived  from  books 
of  chivalry  and  the  ceremonial  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
Milton,  the  most  rigidly  Calvinistic  of  all  the  English  poets 
in  his  opinions,  is  also  the  most  severely  classical  in  his 
style. 

It  was  the  task  of  Addison  to  carry  on  the  reconciling 
traditions  of  our  literature.  It  is  his  praise  to  have  ac- 
complished his  task  under  conditions  far  more  difficult 
than  any  that  his  predecessors  had  experienced.  What 
they  had  done  was  to  give  instinctive  and  characteristic 
expression  to  the  floating  ideas  of  the  society  about  them ; 
what  Addison  and  his  contemporaries  did  was  to  found 
a  public  opinion  by  a  conscious  effort  of  reason  and  per- 
suasion. Before  the  Civil  Wars  there  had  been  at  least  no 
visible  breach  in  the  principle  of  Authority  in  Church  and 
State.  At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  con- 
stituted authority  had  been  recently  overthrown  ;  one  king 
had  been  beheaded,  another  had  been  expelled ;  the  Epis- 
copalian form  of  Church  Government  had  been  violently 
displaced  in  favour  of  the  Presbyterian,  and  had  been  with 
almost  equal  violence  restored.  Whole  classes  of  the  pop- 
ulation had  been  drawn  into  opposing  camps  during  the 
Civil  War,  and  still  stood  confronting  each  other  with  all 
the  harsh  antagonism  of  sentiment  inherited  from  that 
conflict.  Such  a  bare  summary  alone  is  sufficient  to  in- 
dicate the  nature  of  the  diflaculties  Addison  had  to  en- 
counter in  his  efforts  to  harmonise  public  opinion ;  but  a 


'U 


ADDISON.  [chap. 


more  detailed  examination  of  the  state  of  society  after  the 
Restoration  is  required  to  place  in  its  full  light  the  extraor- 
dinary merits  of  the  success  that  he  achieved. 

There  was,  to  begin  with,  a  vehement  opposition  be- 
tween town  and  country.  In  the  country  the  old  ideas  of 
Feudalism,  modified  by  circumstances,  but  vigorous  and 
deep-rooted,  still  prevailed.  True,  the  military  system  of 
land-tenure  had  disappeared  with  the  Restoration,  but  it 
was  not  so  with  the  relations  of  life,  and  the  habits  of 
thought  and  feeling  which  the  system  had  created.  The 
features  of  surviving  Feudalism  have  been  inimitably  pre- 
served for  us  in  the  character  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. 
Living  in  the  patriarchal  fashion,  in  the  midst  of  tenants 
and  retainers,  who  looked  up  to  him  as  their  chief,  and 
for  whose  welfare  and  protection  he  considered  himself 
responsible,  the  country  gentleman  valued  above  all  things 
the  principle  of  Loyalty.  To  the  moneyed  classes  in  the 
towns  he  was  instinctively  opposed;  he  regarded  their 
interests,  both  social  and  commercial,  as  contrary  to  his 
own;  he  looked  with  dislike  and  suspicion  on  the  eco- 
nomical principles  of  government  and  conduct  on  which 
these  classes  naturally  rely.  Even  the  younger  sons  of 
county  families  had  in  Addison's  day  abandoned  the 
custom,  common  enough  in  the  feudal  times,  of  seeking 
their  fortune  in  trade.  Many  a  Will  Wimble  now  spent 
his  whole  life  in  the  country,  training  dogs  for  his  neigh- 
bours, fishing  their  streams,  making  whips  for  their  young- 
heirs,  and  even  garters  for  their  wives  and  daughters.^ 

fPhe  country  gentlemen  were  confirmed  in  these  ideas  by 

the  diflflculties  of  communication.     During;  his  visit  to  Sir 

Roger  de  Coverley  the  Spectator  observed  the  extreme 

sjpwness  with  which  fashions  penetrated  into  the  country ; 

'  Spectator,  No.  108. 


I.J  LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.  9 

and  lie  noticed,  too,  that  party  spirit  was  mucli  more  vio- 
lent there  than  in  the  towns.  The  learning  of  the  clergy, 
many  of  whom  resided  with  the  country  squires  as  chap- 
lains, was  of  course  enlisted  on  the  Tory  side,  and  supplied 
it  with  arguments  which  the  body  of  the  party  might  per- 
haps have  found  it  diflScult  to  discover,  or  at  least  to  ex- 
press, for  themselves.  For  Tory  tastes  undoubtedly  lay 
generally  rather  in  the  direction  of  sport  than  of  books. 
Sir  Roger  seems  to  be  as  much  above  the  average  level  of 
his  class  as  Squire  Western  is  certainly  below  it :  perhaps 
the  Tory  fox-hunter  of  the  Freeholder^  though  somewhat 
satirically  painted,  is  a  fair  representative  of  the  society 
which  had  its  headquarters  at  the  October  Club,  and  whose 
favourite  poet  was  Tom  D'XJrfey. 

The  commercial  and  professional  classes,  from  whom  the 
Whigs  derived  their  chief  support,  of  course  predominated 
in  the  towns,  and  their  larger  opportunities  of  associa- 
tion gave  them  an  influence  in  affairs  which  compensated 
for  their  inferiority  in  numbers.  They  lacked,  however, 
what  the  country  party  possessed,  a  generous  ideal  of  life. 
Though  many  of  them  were  connected  with  the  Presby- 
terian system,  their  common  sense  made  them  revolt  from 
its  rigidity,  while  at  the  same  time  their  economical  prin- 
ciples failed  to  supply  them  with  any  standard  that  could 
satisfy  the  imagination.  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  excites  in 
us  less  interest  than  any  member  of  the  Spectator's  Club.  [/' 
There  was  not  yet  constituted  among  the  upper  middle 
classes  that  mixed  conception  of  good  feeling,  good  breed- 
ing, and  good  taste  which  we  now  attach  to  the  name  of 
"  gentleman." 

Two  main  currents  of  opinion  divided  the  country,  to 
one  of  which  a  man  was  obliged  to  surrender  himself  if  he 
wished  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  organised  society.     One 


/ 


10  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

of  these  was  Puritanism,  but  this  was  undoubtedly  the  less 
popular,  or  at  least  the  less  fashionable.  A  protracted  ex- 
perience of  Roundhead  tyranny  under  the  Long  Parliament 
had  inclined  the  nation  to  believe  that  almost  any  form  of 
Government  was  preferable  to  that  of  the  Saints.  The 
Puritan,  no  longer  the  mere  sectarian,  as  in  the  days  of 
Elizabeth  and  James  I.,  somewhat  ridiculous  in  the  extrav- 
agance of  his  opinions,  but  respectable  from  the  constancy 
with  whicli  he  maintained  them,  had  ruled  over  them  as 
a  taskmaster,  and  had  forced  them,  as  far  as  he  could  by 
military  violence,  to  practise  the  asceticism  to  which  monks 
and  nuns  had  voluntarily  submitted  themselves.  The  most 
innocent  as  well  as  the  most  brutal  diversions  of  the  people 
were  sacrificed  to  his  spiritual  pride.  As  Macaulay  well 
says,  he  hated  bear-baiting,  not  because  it  gave  pain  to  the 
bear,  but  because  it  gave  pleasure  to  the  spectator.  The 
tendency  of  his  creed  was,  in  fact,  anti-social.  Beauty  in 
his  eyes  was  a  snare,  and  pleasure  a  sin  ;  the  only  mode  of 
social  intercourse  which  he  approved  was  a  sermon. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  habits  of  the  Court,  which  gave 
the  tone  to  all  polite  society,  were  almost  equally  distaste- 
ful to  the  instincts  of  the  people.  It  was  inevitable  that 
the  inclinations  of  Charles  II.  should  be  violently  opposed 
to  every  sentiment  of  tlie  Puritans.  While  he  was  in  the 
power  of  the  Scots  he  had  been  forced  into  feigned  com- 
pliance with  Presbyterian  rites;  the  Puritans  had  put  his 
father  to  death,  and  had  condemned  himself  to  many  years 
of  exile  and  hardship  in  Catholic  countries.  He  had  re- 
turned to  his  own  land  half  French  in  his  political  and  re- 
ligious sympathies,  and  entirely  so  in  his  literary  tastes. 
To  convert  and  to  corrupt  those  of  his  subjects  who  imme- 
diately surrounded  him  was  an  easy  matter.  "All  by  the 
king's  example  lived   and   loved."     Poets,  painters,  and 


I.]  LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.  11 

actors  were  forward  to  promote  principles  viewed  with 
favour  by  their  sovereign  and  not  at  all  disagreeable  to 
themselves.  An  ingenious  philosopher  elevated  Absolu- 
tism into  an  intellectual  and  moral  system,  the  consequence 
of  which  was  to  encourage  the  powerful  in  the  indulgence 
of  every  selfish  instinct.  As  the  Puritans  had  oppressed 
the  country  with  a  system  of  inhuman  religion  and  tran- 
scendental morality,  so  now,  in  order  to  get  as  far  from 
Puritanism  as  possible,  it  seemed  necessary  for  every  one 
aspiring  to  be  thought  a  gentleman  to  avow  himself  an 
atheist  or  a  debauchee. 

The  ideas  of  the  man  in  the  mode  after  the  Restoration 
are  excellently  hit  off  in  one  of  the  fictitious  letters  in  the 
Spectator : 

<*  I  am  now  between  fifty  and  sixty,  and  had  the  honour  to  be  well 
with  the  first  men  of  taste  and  gallantry  in  the  joyous  reign  of 
Charles  the  Second.  As  for  yourself,  Mr.  Spectator,  you  seem  with 
the  utmost  arrogance  to  undermine  the  very  fundamentals  upon 
which  we  conducted  ourselves.  It  is  monstrous  to  set  up  for  a  man 
of  wit  and  yet  deny  that  honour  in  a  woman  is  anything  but  peevish- 
ness, that  inclination  is  not  the  best  rule  of  life,  or  virtue  and  vice 
^  anything  else  but  health  and  disease.  We  had  no  more  to  do  but 
to  put  a  lady  in  a  good  humour,  and  all  we  could  wish  followed  of 
course.)  Then,  again,  your  TuUy  and  your  discourses  of  another 
life  are  the  very  bane  of  mirth  and  good  humour.  Prythee,  don't 
value  thyself  on  thy  reason  at  that  exorbitant  rate  and  the  dignity 
of  human  nature ;  take  my  word  for  it,  a  setting  dog  has  as  good 
reason  as  any  man  in  England."  ^ 

While  opinions,  which  from  different  sides  struck  at  the 
very  roots  of  society,  prevailed  both  in  the  fashionable  and 
religious  portions  of  the  community,  it  was  inevitable  that 
Taste  should  be  hopelessly  corrupt.  All  the  artistic  and 
literary  forms  which  the  Court  favoured  were  of  the  ro- 
'  ASpectato)\  No.  158. 


(X 


12  ADDISON.  [chap. 

mantic  order,  but  it  was  roraance  from  which  beauty 
and  vitality  had  utterly  disappeared.  Of  the  two  great 
principles  of  ancient  chivalry,  Love  and  Honour,  the  last 
notes  of  which  are  heard  in  the  lyrics  of  Lpvelaiis  and 
Montrose,  one  was  now  held  to  be  non-existent,  and  the 
other  was  utterly  perverted.  The  feud^'^l  spirit  had  sur- 
rounded woman  with  an  atmosphere  of  mystical  devotion, 
but  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  the  passion  of  love  was  sub- 
jected to  the  torturing  treatment  then  known  as  "  wit.'^ 
Cowley  and  Waller  seem  to  think  that  when  a  man  is  in 
love  the  energy  of  his  feelings  is  best  shown  by  discover- 
ing resemblances  between  his  mistress  and  those  objects  in 
nature  to  which  she  is  apparently  most  unlike. 

The  ideal  of  Woman,  as  she  is  represented  in  the  Spec- 
tator j  adding  grace,  charity,  and  refinement  to  domestic 
life,  had  still  to  be  created.  The  king  himself,  the  pre- 
sumed mirror  of  good  taste,  was  notoriously  under  the 
control  of  his  numerous  mistresses ;  and  the  highest  notion 
of  love  which  he  could  conceive  was  gallantry.  French 
romances  were  therefore  generally  in  vogue.  All  the  casu- 
istry of  love  which  had  been  elaborated  by  Mademoiselle 
de  Scudery  was  reproduced  with  improvements  by  Mrs. 
Aphra  Behn.  At  the  same  time,  as  usually  happens  in 
diseased  societies,  there  was  a  general  longing  to  cultivate 
the  simplicity  of  the  Golden  Age,  and  the  consequence  was 
that  no  person,  even  in  the  lower  grades  of  society,  who 
pretended  to  any  reading,  ever  thought  of  making  love 
in  his  own  person.  The  proper  tone  of  feeling  was  not 
acquired  till  he  had  invested  himself  with  the  pastoral  at- 
tributes of  Damon  and  Celadon,  and  had  addressed  his 
future  wife  as  Amarantha  or  Phyllis. 

The  tragedies  of  the  period  illustrate  this  general  incli- 
nation to  spurious  romance.     Ifeeve^here  was  a  time 


!-■ 


I.J       LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.       13 

when  the  ideal  of  monarchy  was  degraded,  and  the  instincts 
of  chivalrous  action  discouraged,  it  was  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  11.  Absorbed  as  he  was  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
the  king  scarcely  attempted  to  conceal  his  weariness  when 
obliged  to  attend  to  affairs  of  State.  He  allowed  the 
Dutch  fleet  to  approach  his  capital  and  to  burn  his  own 
ships  of  war  on  the  Thames;  he  sold  Dunkirk  to  the 
French ;  hardly  any  action  in  his  life  evinces  any  sense  of 
patriotism  or  honour.  And  yet  we  have  only  to  glance  at- 
Johnson's  Life  of  Dry  den  to  see  how  all  the  tragedies  of 
the  time  turn  on  the  great  characters,  the  great  actions, 
the  great  sufferings  of  princes.  The  Elizabethan  drama 
had  exhibited  man  in  every  degree  of  life  and  with  every 
variety  of  character;  the  playwright  of  the  Kestoration 
seldom  descended  below  such  themes  as  the  conquest  of 
Mexico  or  Granada,  the  fortunes  of  the  Great  Mogul,  and 
the  fate  of  Hannibal.  This  monotony  of  subject  was 
doubtless  in  part  the  result  of  policy,  for  in  pitying  the 
fortunes  of  Montezuma  the  imagination  of  the  spectator 
insensibly  recalled  those  of  Charles  the  Second. 

Everything  in  these  tragedies  is  unreal,  strained,  and 
affected.  In  order  to  remove  them  as  far  as  possible  from 
the  language  of  ordinary  life  they  are  written  in  rhyme, 
while  the  astonishment  of  the  audience  is  raised  with  big 
swelling  words,  which  vainly  seek  to  hide  the  absence  of 
genuine  feeling.  The  heroes  tear  their  passion  to  tatters 
because  they  think  it  heroic  to  do  so ;  their  flights  into 
the  sublime  generally  drop  into  the  ridiculous;  instead 
of  holding  up  the  mirror  to  nature,  their  object  is  to  de- 
part as  far  as  possible  from  common  sense.  Nothing  ex- 
hibits more  characteristically  the  utterly  artificial  feeling, 
both  of  the  dramatists  and  the  spectators,  than  the  habit 
which  then  prevailed  orf  dismissing  the  audience  after  a 


14  ADDISON.  [chap. 

tragic  play  with  a  witty  epilogue.  On  one  occasion,  Nell 
G Wynne,  in  the  character  of  St.  Catherine,  was,  at  the  end 
of  the  play,  left  for  dead  upon  the  stage.  Her  body  having 
to  be  removed,  the  actress  suddenly  started  to  her  feet,  cx- 
clairaing, 

"  Hold !  are  you  mad  ?  you  damned  confounded  dog, 
I  am  to  rise  and  speak  the  epilogue !"  ^ 

By  way  of  compensation,  however,  the  writers  of  the 
•period  poured  forth  their  real  feelings  without  reserve  in 
their  comedies.  So  great,  indeed,  is  the  gulf  that  separates 
our  own  manners  from  theirs,  that  some  critics  have  en- 
deavoured to  defend  the  comic  dramatists  of  the  Resto- 
ration against  the  moralists  on  the  ground  that  their  rep- 
resentations of  Nature  are  entirely  devoid  of  reality.  Charles 
Lamb,  who  loved  all  curiosities,  and  the  Caroline  comedi- 
ans among  the  number,  says  of  them  : 

"  They  are  a  world  of  themselves  almost  as  much  as  fairy-land. 
Take  one  of  their  characters,  male  or  female  (with  few  exceptions 
tliey  are  alike),  and  place  it  in  a  modern  play,  and  my  virtuous  in- 
dignation shall  rise  against  the  profligate  wretch  as  warmly  as  the 
Catos  of  the  pit  could  desire,  because  in  a  modern  play  I  am  to  judge 
of  the  right  and  the  Avrong.  The  standard  of  police  is  the  measure 
ol political  jmiice.  The  atmosphere  will  blight  it;  it  cannot  live 
here.  It  has  got  into  a  moral  world,  where  it  has  no  business,  from 
which  it  must  needs  fall  headlong — as  dizzy  and  incapable  of  making 
a  stand  as  a  Swedenborgian  bad  spirit  that  has  wandered  unawares 
into  his  sphere  of  Good  Men  or  Angels.  But  in  its  own  world  do 
we  feel  the  creature  is  so  very  bad  ?  The  Fainalls  and  Mirabels,  the 
Dorimants  and  Lady  Touchwoods,  in  their  own  sphere  do  not  offend 
my  moral  sense ;  in  fact,  they  do  not  appeal  to  it  at  all.  They  seem 
engaged  in  their  proper  element.  They  break  through  no  laws  or 
conscientious  restraints.  They  know  of  none.  They  have  got  out  of 
Christendom  into  the  land  of — what  shall  I  call  it  ? — of  cuckoldry — 

^  Spectator^  No.  841. 


I.]       LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.       15 

the  Utopia  of  gallantry,  where  pleasure  is  duty  and  the  manners  per- 
fect freedom.  It  is  altogether  a  speculative  scene  of  things,  which 
has  no  reference  whatever  to  the  world  that  is." 

This  is  a  very  liappy  description  of  the  manner  in  whicli 
the  plays  of  Etherege,  Shadwell,  Wycherley,  and  Congreve 
affect  us  to-day ;  and  it  is  no  doubt  superfluous  to  expend 
much  moral  indignation  on  works  which  have  long  since 
lost  their  power  to  charm :  comedies  in  which  the  reader 
finds  neither  the  horseplay  of  Aristophanes,  nor  the  nature 
of  Terence,  nor  the  poetry  of  Shakespeare ;  in  which  there 
is  not  a  single  character  that  arouses  interest,  or  a  situation 
that  spontaneously  provokes  laughter ;  in  which  the  com- 
plications of  plot  are  produced  by  the  devices  of  fine  gen- 
tlemen for  making  cuckolds  of  citizens,  and  the  artifices  of 
wives  to  dupe  their  husbands ;  in  which  the  profuse  wit  of 
the  dialogue  might  excite  admiration,  if  it  were  possible  to 
feel  the  smallest  interest  in  the  occasion  that  produced  it. 
But  to  argue  that  these  plays  never  represented  any  state 
of  existing  society  is  a  paradox  which  chooses  to  leave  out 
of  account  the  contemporary  attack  on  the  stage  made  by 
Jeremy  Collier,  the  admissions  of  Dry  den,  and  all  those 
valuable  glimpses  into  the  manners  of  our  ancestors  which 
are  afforded  by  the  prologues  of  the  period. 

It  is  sufficient  to  quote  against  Lamb  the  witty  and  se- 
vere criticism  of  Steele  in  the  Spectator^  upon  Etherege's 
Man  of  the  Mode : 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  but  that  the  negligence  of  everything  which 
engages  the  attention  of  the  sober  and  valuable  part  of  mankind  ap- 
pears very  well  drawn  in  this  piece.  But  it  is  denied  that  it  is  nec- 
•essary  to  the  character  of  a  fine  gentleman  that  he  should  in  that 
manner  trample  upon  all  order  and  decency.  As  for  the  character 
of  Dorimant,  it  is  more  of  a  coxcomb  than  that  of  Fopling.  He  says 
of  one  of  his  companions  that  a  good  correspondence  between  them 


16  ADDISON.  [chap. 

is  their  mutual  interest.  Speaking  of  that  friend,  he  declares  their 
being  much  together  '  makes  the  women  think  the  better  of  his  un- 
derstanding, and  judge  more  favourably  of  my  reputation.  It  makes 
him  pass  upon  some  for  a  man  of  very  good  sense,  and  me  upon  oth- 
ers for  a  very  civil  person.'  This  whole  celebrated  piece  is  a  perfect 
contradiction  to  good  manners,  good  sense,  and  common  honesty; 
and  as  there  is  nothing  in  it  but  what  is  built  upon  the  ruin  of  virtue 
and  innocence,  according  to  the  notion  of  virtue  in  this  comedy, 
I  take  the  shoemaker  to  be  in  reality  the  fine  gentleman  of  the  play ; 
for  it  seems  he  is  an  atheist,  if  we  may  depend  upon  his  character  as 
given  by  the  orange-woman,  who  is  herself  far  from  being  the  lowest 
in  the  play.  She  says  of  a  fine  man  who  is  Dorimant's  companion, 
*  there  is  not  such  another  heathen  in  the  town  except  the  shoemaker.' 
His  pretension  to  be  the  hero  of  the  drama  appears  still  more  in  his 
own  description  of  his  way  of  living  with  his  lady.  '  There  is,'  says 
he,  *  never  a  man  in  the  town  lives  more  like  a  gentleman  with  his 
wife  than  I  do.  I  never  mind  her  motions ;  she  never  inquires  into 
mine.  We  speak  to  one  another  civilly ;  hate  one  another  heartily ; 
and,  because  it  is  vulgar  to  lie  and  soak  together,  we  have  each  of  us 
our  several  settle-beds.' 

"  That  of  'soaking  together'  is  as  good  as  if  Dorimant  had  spoken 
it  himself;  and  I  think,  since  he  puts  human  nature  in  as  ugly  a 
form  as  the  circumstances  will  bear,  and  is  a  staunch  unbeliever,  he 
is  very  much  wronged  in  having  no  part  of  the  good  fortune  bestowed 
in  the  last  act.  To  speak  plain  of  this  whole  work,  I  thhik  nothing 
but  being  lost  to  a  sense  of  innocence  and  virtue  can  make  any  one 
see  this  comedy  without  observing  more  frequent  occasion  to  move 
sorrow  and  indignation  than  mirth  and  laughter.  At  the  same  time 
I  allow  it  to  be  nature,  but  it  is  nature  in  its  utmost  corruption  and 
degeneracy."  ^ 

The  truth  is,  that  the  stage  after  the  Kestoration  reflects 
only  too  faithfully  the  manners  and  the  sentiments  of  the 
only  society  which  at  that  period  could  boast  of  anything 
like  organisation.  The  press,  which  now  enables  public 
opinion  to  exer-6ise  so  powerful  a  control  over  the  manners* 
of  the  times,  had  then  scarcely  an  existence.  No  standard 
^  Spectator^  No.  65. 


I.]  LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.  17 

of  female  honour  restrained  the  license  of  wit  and  debauch- 
ery. If  the  clergy  were  shocked  at  the  propagation  of  ideas 
so  contrary  to  the  whole  spirit  of  Christianity,  their  natural 
impulse  to  reprove  them  was  checked  by  the  fear  that  an 
apparent  condemnation  of  the  practices  of  the  Court  might 
end  in  the  triumph  of  their  old  enemies,  the  Puritans.  All 
the  elements  of  an  old  and  decaying  form  of  society  that 
tended  to  atheism,  cynicism,  and  dissolute  living,  exhibited 
themselves,  therefore,  in  naked  shamelessness  on  the  stage. 
The  audiences  in  the  theatres  were  equally  devoid  of  good 
manners  and  good  taste ;  they  did  not  hesitate  to  interrupt 
the  actors  in  the  midst  of  a  serious  play,  while  they  loudly 
applauded  their  obscene  allusions.  So  gross  w^as  the  char- 
acter of  comic  dialogue  that  women  could  not  venture  to 
appear  at  a  comedy  without  masks,  and  under  these  cir- 
cumstances the  theatre  became  the  natiaral  centre  for  assig- 
nations. In  such  an  atmosphere  w^omcn  readily  cast  olf  all 
modesty  and  reserve;  indeed,  the  choicest  indecencies  of 
the  times  are  to  be  found  in  the  epilogues  to  the  plays, 
which  were  always  assigned  to  the  female  actors. 

It  at  first  sight  seems  remarkable  that  a  society  inveter- 
ately  corrupt  should  have  contained  in  itself  such  powers 
of  purification  and  vitality  as  to  discard  the  literary  gar- 
bage of  the  Restoration  period  in  favour  of  the  refined 
sobriety  which  characterises  the  writers  of  Queen  Anne's 
reign.  But,  in  fact,  the  spread  of  the  infection  was  con- 
fined within  certain  well-marked  limits.  The  Court  moved  i/' 
in  a  sphere  apart,  and  was  altogether  too  light  and  frivolous 
to  exert  a  decided  moral  influence  on  the  great  body  of  the 
nation.  The  country  gentlemen,  busied  on  their  estates, 
^ame  seldom  to  town ;  the  citizens,  the  lawyers,  and  the 
fiiembers  of  the  other  professions  steadily  avoided  the  the- 
atre, and  regarded  with  equal  contempt  the  moral  and  lit- 


18  ADDISON.  [chap. 

erary  excesses  of  the  courtiers.  Among  this  class,  unrep- 
resented at  present  in  the  world  of  letters,  except,  perhaps, 
by  antiquarians  like  Selden,  the  foundatiojus^of  sound  taste 
were  being  silently  laid.  The  readers  of  the  nation  had 
hitherto  been  almost  limited  to  the  nobility.  Books  were 
generally  published  by  subscription,  and  were  dependent 
for  their  success  on  the  favour  with  whicb  they  were  re- 
ceived by  the  courtiers.  But,  after  the  subsidence  of  the 
Civil  War,  the  nation  began  to  make  rapid  strides  in 
wealth  and  refinement,  and  the  moneyed  classes  sought  for 
intellectual  amusement  in  their  leisure  hours.  Authors  by 
degrees  found  that  they  might  look  for  readers  beyond 
the  select  circle  of  their  aristocratic  patrons;  and  the 
book-seller,  who  had  hitherto  calculated  his  profits  merely 
by  the  commission  he  might  obtain  on  the  sale  of  books, 
soon  perceived  that  they  were  becoming  valuable  as  prop- 
erty. The  reign  of  Charles  II.  is  remarkable  not  only  for 
the  great  increase  in  the  number  of  the  licensed  printers  in 
London,  but  for  the  appearance  of  the  first  of  the  race  of 
modern  publishers,  Jacob  Tonson. 

The  portion  of  society  whose  tastes  the  publishers  un- 
dertook to  satisfy  was  chiefly  interested  in  history,  poetry, 
and  criticism.  It  was  this  for  which  Dryden  composed  his 
Miscellany,  this  to  which  he  addressed  the  admirable  crit- 
ical essays  which  precede  his  Translations  from  the  Latin 
Poets  and  his  Versifications  of  Chaucer,  and  this  which 
afterwards  gave  the  main  support  to  the  Tatler  and  the 
Spectator.  Ignorant  of  the  writings  of  the  great  classical 
authors,  as  well  as  of  the  usages  of  polite  society,  these 
men  were  nevertheless  robust  and  manly  in  their  ideas, 
and  were  eager  to  form  for  themselves  a  correct  standard 
of  taste  by  reference  to  the  best  authorities.  Though  they 
turned  with  repugnance  from  the  playhouse  and  from  the 


I.]       LETTERS  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION.       19 

morals  of  the  Court,  they  could  not  avoid  being  insensibly 
affected  by  the  tone  of  grace  and  elegance  which  prevailed 
in  Court  circles.  And  in  this  respect,  if  in  no  other,  our 
gratitude  is  due  to  the  Caroline  dramatists,  who  may  justly 
claim  to  be  the  founders  of  the  social  prose  style  in  Eng- 
lish literature.  Before  them  English  prose  had  been  em- 
ployed, no  doubt,  with  music  and  majesty  by  many  writers ; 
but  the  style  of  these  is  scarcely  representative ;  they  had 
used  the  language  for  their  own  elevated  purposes,  without, 
however,  attempting  to  give  it  that  balanced  fineness  and 
subtlety  which  makes  it  a  fitting  instrument  for  conveying 
the  complex  ideas  of  an  advanced  stage  of  society.  Dry- 
den,  Wycherley,  and  their  followers,  impelled  by  the  taste 
of  the  Court  to  study  the  French  language,  brought  to 
English  composition  a  nicer  standard  of  logic  and  a  more 
choice  selection  of  language,  while  the  necessity  of  pleasing 
their  audiences  with  brilliant  dialogue  made  them  careful 
to  give  their  sentences  that  well -poised  structure  which 
Addison  afterwards  carried  to  perfection  in  the  Spectator, 
By  this  brief  sketch  the  reader  may  be  enabled  to  judge 
of  the  distracted  state  of  society,  both  in  politics  and  taste, 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  On  the  one  side,  the  Mo- 
narchical element  in  the  Constitution  was  represented  by 
the  Court  Party,  flushed  with  the  recent  restoration  ;  re- 
taining the  old  ideas  and  principles  of  absolutism  which 
had  prevailed  under  James  I.,  without  being  able  to  per- 
ceive their  inapplicability  to  the  existing  nature  of  things ; 
feeding  its  imagination  alternately  on  sentiments  derived 
from  the  decayed  spirit  of  chivalry,  and  on  artistic  repre- 
sentations of  fashionable  debauchery  in  its  most  open  form 
— a  party  which,  while  it  fortunately  preserved  the  tradi- 
tions of  wit,  elegance,  and  gaiety  of  style,  seemed  unaware 
that  these  qualities  could  be  put  to  any  other  use  than  the 
2 


20  ADDISON.  [chap.  i. 

mitigation  of  an  intolerable  ennui  On  the  other  side,  the 
rising  power  of  Democracy  found  its  representatives  in 
austere  Kepuhlicans  opposed  to  all  institutions  in  Church 
and  State  that  seemed  to  obstruct  their  own  abstract  prin- 
ciples of  government ;  gloomy  fanatics,  who,  with  an  in- 
, tense  intellectual  appreciation  of  eternal  principles  of  re- 
ligion and  morality,  sought  to  sacrifice  to  their  system  the 
most  permanent  and  even  innocent  instincts  of  human  nat- 
ure. Betw^een  the  two  extreme  parties  was  the  unorgan- 
ised body  of  the  nation,  grouped  round  old  customs  and 
institutions,  rapidly  growing  in  wealth  and  numbers,  con- 
scious of  the  rise  in  their  midst  of  new  social  principles, 
but  perplexed  how  to  reconcile  these  with  time-honoured 
methods  of  religious,  political,  and  literary  thought.  To 
lay  the  foundations  of  sound  opinion  among  the  people  at 
large;  to  prove  that  reconciliation  was  possible  between 
principles  hitherto  exhibited  only  in  mutual  antagonism ; 
to  show  that  under  the  English  Constitution  monarchy, 
aristocracy,  and  democracy  might  all  be  harmonised,  that 
humanity  was  not  absolutely  incompatible  with  religion 
or  morality  with  art,  was  the  task  of  the  statesmen,  and 
still  more  of  the  men  of  letters,  of  the  early  part  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Addison's  family  and  education. 

Joseph  Addison  was  born  on  the  1st  of  May,  1672.  Ho 
was  the  eldest  son  of  Lancelot  Addison,  at  the  time  of 
his  birth  rector  of  Milston,  near  Amesbur}^  in  Wiltshire, 
and  afterwards  Dean  of  Lichfield.  His  father  was  a  man 
f  of  character  and  accomplishments.  Educated  at  Oxford, 
while  that  University  was  under  the  control  of  the  famous 
Puritan  Visitation,  he  made  no  secret  of  his  contempt  for 
principles  to  which  he  was  forced  to  submit,  or  of  his 
preferences  for  Monarchy  and  Episcopacy.  His  boldness 
was  not  agreeable  to  the  University  authorities,  and  being 
forced  to  leave  Oxford,  he  maintained  himself  for  a  time 
near  Petworth,  in  Sussex,  by  acting  as  chaplain  or  tutor 
in  families  attached  to  the  Eoyalist  cause.  After  the  Res- 
toration he  obtained  the  appointment',  of  chaplain  to  the 
garrison  of  Dunkirk,  and  when  that  town  was  ceded  to 
France  in  1662,  he  was  removed  in  a  similar  capacity  to 
Tangier.  Here  he  remained  eight  years,  but,  venturing 
on  a  visit  to  England,  his  post  was  bestowed  upon  another, 
and  he  would  have  been  left  without  resources  had  not  one 
of  his  friends  presented  him  with  the  living  of  Milston, 
valued  at  £120  a  year.  With  the  courage  of  his  order  he 
thereupon  took  a  wife,  Jane,  daughter  of  Dr.  Nathaniel 
Gulston,  and  sister  of  William  Gulston,  Bishop  of  Bristol, 


\i^- 


22  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

'  by  whom  he  had  six  children,  three  sons  and  three  daugh- 
ters, all  born  at  Milston.  In  1675  he  was  made  a  preben- 
dary of  Salisbury  Cathedral  and  Chaplain-in-Ordinary  to 
the  King;  and  in  1683  he  was  promoted  to  the  Deanery 
of  Lichfield,  as  a  reward  for  his  services  at  Tangier,  and 
out  of  consideration  of  losses  which  he  had  sustained  by 
a  fire  at  Milston.  His  literary  reputation  stood  high,  and 
it  is  said  that  he  would  have  been  made  a  bishop,  if  his 
old  zeal  for  legitimacy  had  not  prompted  him  to  manifest 

''  in  the  Convocation  of  1689  his  hostility  to  the  Revolution. 
He  died  in  1703. 

Lancelot  was  a  writer  at  once  voluminous  and  lively. 
In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  produced  several  treatises 
on  theological  subjects,  the  most  popular  of  which  was 
called  An  Introduction  to  the  Sacrament.  This  book 
passed  through  many  editions.  The  doctrine  it  contains, 
leans  rather  to  the  Low  Church  side.  But  much  the  most 
characteristic  of  his  w^ritings  were  his  works  on  Mahom- 
medanism  and  Judaism,  the  results  of  his  studies  during 
his  residence  in  Barbary.     These  show  not  only  consider- 

t  able  industry  and  research  and  powers  of  shrewd  observa- 
tion, but  that  genuine  literary  faculty  which  enables  a 
writer  to  leave  upon  a  subject  of  a  general  nature  the  im- 
pression of  his  own  character.  While  there  is  nothing 
forced  or  exaggerated  in  his  historical  style,  a  vein  of  alle- 
gory runs  through  the  narrative  of  the  Revolutions  of  the 
Kingdoms  of  Fez  and  Morocco,  which  must  have  had  a 
piquant  flavour  for  the  orthodox  English  reader  of  that  day. 
Recollections  of  the  Protectorate  would  have  taken  noth- 
ing of  its  vividness  from  the  portrait  of  the  Moorish  priest 
who  "  began  to  grow  into  reputation  with  the  people  by 
reason  of  his  high  pretensions  to  piety  and  fervent  zeal  for 
their  law,  illustrated  by  a  stubborn  rigidity  of  conversation 


II.]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  23 

and  outward  sanctity  of  life."  When  the  Zeriffe,  with  am- 
bitious designs  on  the  throne,  sent  his  sons  on  a  pilgrim- 
age to  Mecca,  the  religious  buffooneries  practised  by  the 
young  men  must  have  recalled  to  the  reader  circumstances 
more  recent  and  personal  than  those  which  the  author  was 
apparently  describing.  "  Much  was  the  reverence  and  rep- 
utation of  holiness  which  they  thereby  acquired  among  ■ 
the  superstitious  people,  who  could  hardly  be  kept  from 
kissing  their  garments  and  adoring  them  as  saints,  while 
they  failed  not  in  their  parts,  but  acted  as  much  devotion 
as  high  contemplative  looks,  deep  sighs,  tragical  gestures, 
and  other  passionate  interjections  of  holiness  could  ex- 
press. 'Allah,  allah  r  was  their  doleful  note,  their  suste- 
nance the  people's  alms."  And  when  these  impostors  had 
inveigled  the  King  of  Fez  into  a  religious  war,  the  descrip- 
tion of  those  who  "  mistrusted  their  own  safety,  and  began, 
but  too  late,  to  repent  their  approving  of  an  armed  hypoc- 
risy," was  not  more  applicable  to  the  rulers  of  Barbary 
than  to  the  people  of  England.  "Puffed  up  with  their 
successes,  they  forgot  their  obedience,  and  these  saints 
denied  the  king  the  fifth  part  of  their  spoils.  ...  By  which 
it  appeared  that  they  took  up  arms,  not  out  of  love  for 
their  country  and  zeal  for  their  religion,  but  out  of  desire 
of  rule."  There  is,  indeed,  nothing  in  these  utterances 
which  need  have  prevented  the  writer  from  consistently 
promoting  the  Revolution  of  1688 ;  yet  his  principles  seem 
to  have  carried  him  far  in  the  opposite  direction  ;  and  it 
is  interesting  to  remember  that  the  assertor  in  Convocation 
of  the  doctrine  of  indefeasible  hereditary  right  was  the 
father  of  the  author  of  the  Whig  Examiner  and  the  Free- 
holder. However  decidedly  Joseph  may  have  dissented 
from  his  father's  political  creed,  we  know  that  he  enter- 
tained admiration  and  respect  for  his  memory,  and  that 


24  ADDISON.  [chap. 

death  alone  prevented  him  from  completing  the  monument 
afterwards  erected  in  Lancelot's  honour  in  Lichfield  Cathe- 
dral. 

Of  Addison's  mother  nothing  of  importance  is  recorded. 
His  second  brother,  Gulston,  became  Governor  of  Fort  St. 
George,  in  the  East  Indies ;  and  the  third,  Lancelot,  fol- 
lowed in  Joseph's  footsteps  so  far  as  to  obtain  a  Fellow- 
ship at  Magdalen  College,  Oxford.  His  sisters,  Jane  and 
Anna,  died  young ;  but  Dorothy  was  twice  married,  and 
Swift  records  in  her  honour  that  she  was  "a  kind  of  wit, 
and  very  like  her  brother."  We  may  readily  believe  that 
a  writer  so  lively  as  Lancelot  would  have  had  clever  chil- 
dren, but  Steele  was  perhaps  carried  away  by  the  zeal  of 
friendship  or  the  love  of  epigram  when  he  said,  in  his  dedi- 
cation to  the  Drummer :  "  Mr.  Dean  Addison  left  behind 
him  four  children,  each  of  whom,  for  excellent  talents  and 
singular  perfections,  was  as  much  above  the  ordinary  world 
as  their  brother  Joseph  was  above  them."  But  that  Steele 
had  a  sincere  admiration^for  the  whole  family  is  sufficient- 
ly shown  by  his  using  them  as  an  example  in  one  of  his 
early  Tatlers : 

*'  I  remember  among  all  my  acquaintance  but  one  man  whora  I 
have  thought  to  live  with  his  children  with  equanimity  and  a  good 
grace.  He  had  three  sons  and  one  daughter,  whom  he  bred  with  all 
the  care  imaginable  in  a  liberal  and  ingenuous  way.  I  have  often 
heard  him  say  he  had  the  weakness  to  love  one  much  better  than  the 
other,  but  that  he  took  as  much  pains  to  correct  that  as  any  other 
criminal  passion  that  could  arise  in  his  mind.  His  method  was  to 
make  it  the  only  pretension  in  his  children  to  his  favour  to  be  kind  to 
each  other,  and  he  would  tell  them  that  he  who  was  the  best  brother 
he  would  reckon  the  best  son.  This  turned  their  thoughts  into  an 
emulation  for  the  superiority  in  kind  and  tender  affection  towards 
each  other.  The  boys  behaved  themselves  very  early  with  a  manly 
friendship ;  and  their  sister,  instead  of  the  gross  familiarities  and 


II.]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  26 

impertinent  freedoms  in  behaviour  usual  in  other  houses,  was  always 
treated  by  them  with  as  much  complaisance  as  any  other  young  lady 
of  their  acquaintance.  It  was  an  unspeakable  pleasure  to  visit  or 
sit  at  a  meal  in  that  family.  I  have  often  seen  the  old  man's  heart 
flow  at  his  eyes  with  joy  upon  occasions  which  would  appear  indiffer- 
ent to  such  as  were  strangers  to  the  turn  of  his  mind ;  but  a  very 
slight  accident,  wherein  he  saw  his  children's  good-will  to  one  an- 
other, created  in  him  the  god- like  pleasure  of  loving  them  because 
they  loved  each  other.  This  great  command  of  himself  in  hiding 
his  first  impulse  to  partiality  at  last  improved  to  a  steady  justice 
towards  them,  and  that  which  at  first  was  but  an  expedient  to  cor- 
rect his  weakness  was  afterwards  the  measure  of  his  virtue."  * 

This,  no  doubt,  is  the  set  description  of  a  moralist,  and 
to  an  age  in  which  the  liberty  of  manners  has  grown  into 
something  like  Kcense  it  may  savour  of  formalism  and 
priggishness ;  but  when  we  remember  that  the  writer  was 
one  of  the  most  warm-hearted  of  men,  and  that  the  subject 
of  his  panegyric  was  himself,  full  of  vivacity  and  impulse, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  the  picture  which  it  gives  us  of 
the  Addison  family  in  the  rectory  of  Milston  is  a  particu- 
larly amiable  one. 

Though  the  eighteenth  century  had  little  of  that  feeling 
for  natural  beauty  which  distinguishes  our  own,  a  man  of 
Addison's  imagination  could  hardly  fail  to  be  impressed  by 
the  character  of  the  scenery  in  which  his  childhood  was 
passed.  No  one  who  has  travelled  on  a  summer's  day 
across  Salisbury  plain,  with  its  vast  canopy  of  sky  and  its 
open  tracts  of  undulating  downland,  relieved  by  no  shad- 
ows except  such  as  are  thrown  by  the  passing  cloud,  the 
grazing  sheep,  and  the  great  circle  of  Stonehenge,  will  for- 
get the  delightful  sense  of  refreshment  and  repose  pro- 
duced by  the  descent  into  the  valley  of  the  Avon.  The 
sounds  of  human  life  rising  from  the  villages  after  the 
J  Tatler,  No.  25. 


26  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

long  solitude  of  tlie  plain,  the  shade  of  the  deep  woods, 
the  coolness  of  the  river,  like  all  streams  rising  in  the 
chalk,  clear  and  peaceful,  are  equally  delicious  to  the  sense 
and  the  imagination.  It  was,  doubtless,  the  recollection 
of  these  scenes  that  inspired  Addison  in  his  paraphrase  of 
the  twenty-third  Psalm : 

1  "  The  Lord  my  pasture  shall  prepare, 

And  feed  me  with  a  shepherd's  care. 

I  When  in  the  sultry  glebe  I  faint, 

Or  on  the  thirsty  mountain  pant. 

To  fertile  vales  and  dewy  meads 
I  My  weary  wandering  steps  he  leads, 

Where  peaceful  rivers,  soft  and  slow, 

Amid  the  verdant  landscape  flow." 

At  Amesbury  he  w^as  first  sent  to  school,  his  master 
being  one  Nash  ;  and  here,  too,  he  probably  met  with  the 
first  recorded  adventure  of  his  life.  It  is  said  that  having 
committed  some  fault,  and  being  fearful  of  the  conse- 
quences, he  ran  away  from  school,  and,  taking  up  his 
^  abode  in  a  hollow  tree,  maintained  himself  as  he  could 
till  he  was  discovered  and  brought  back  to  his  parents. 
He  was  removed  from  Amesbury  to  Salisbury,  and  thence 
to  the  Grammar  School  at  Lichfield,  where  he  is  said  to 
have  been  the  leader  in  a  "  barring  out."  From  Lichfield 
he  passed  to  the  Charter  House,  then  under  the  charge  of 
Dr.  Ellis,  a  man  of  taste  and  scholarship.  The  Charter 
i  House  at  that  period  was,  after  Westminster,  the  best- 
/  known  school  in  England,  and  here  was  laid  the  foundation 
/  of  that  sound  classical  taste  which  perfected  the  style  of 
the  essays  in  the  Spectator, 

Macaulay  labours  with  much  force  and  ingenuity  to 
prove   that  Addison's   classical    acquirements   were   only 


II.]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  27 

superficial,  and,  in  his  usual  epigrammatic  manner,  hazards 
the  opinion  that  "  his  knowledge  of  Greek,  though  doubt- 
less such  as  was,  in  his  time,  thought  respectable  at  Oxford, 
was  evidently  less  than  that  which  many  lads  now  carry 
away  every  year  from  Eton  and  Rugby."  That  Addison 
was  not  a  scholar  of  the  class  of  Bentley  or  Porson  may 
be  readily  admitted.  But  many  scattered  allusions  in  his 
works  prove  that  his  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  poets 
of  every  period,  if  cursory,  was  wide  and  intelligent :  ho 
was  sufficiently  master  of  the  language  thoroughly  to  un- 
derstand the  spirit  of  what  he  read ;  he  undertook  while 
at  Oxford  a  translation  of  Herodotus,  and  one  of  the  pa- 
pers in  the  Spectator  is  a  direct  imitation  of  a  jeu  cTcsprit 
of  Lucian's.  The  Eton  or  Rugby  boy  who,  in  these  days, 
with  a  normal  appetite  for  cricket  and  football,  acquired 
an  equal  knowledge  of  Greek  literature,  would  certainly  be 
somewhat  of  a  prodigy. 

No  doubt,  however,  Addison's  knowledge  of  the  Latin 
poets  was,  as  Macaulay  infers,  far  more  extensive  and  pro- 
found. It  would  have  been  strange  had  it  been  otherwise. 
The  influence  of  the  classical  side  of  the  Italian  Renaissance 
"was  now  at  its  height,  and  wherever  those  ideas  became 
paramount  Latin  composition  was  held  in  at  least  as  much 
esteem  as  poetry  in  the  vernacular.  Especially  was  this 
the  case  in  England,  where  certain  affinities  of  character 
and  temperament  made  it  easy  for  writers  to  adopt  Roman 
habits  of  thought.  Latin  verse  composition  soon  took  firm 
root  in  the  public  schools  and  universities,  so  that  clever 
boys  of  the  period  were  tolerably  familiar  wnth  most  of 
the  minor  Roman  poets.  Pope,  in  the  Fourth  Book  of  the 
Dunclad,  vehemently  attacked  the  tradition  as  confining 
the  mind  to  the  study  of  words  rather  than  of  things ;  but 
he  had  himself  had  no  experience  of  a  public  school,  and 


28  ADDISON.  [chap. 

only  those  who  fail  to  appreciate  the  influence  of  Latin 
verse  composition  on  the  style  of  our  own  greatest  orators, 
and  of  poets  like  Milton  and  Gray,  will  be  inclined  to  un- 
dervalue it  as  an  instrument  of  social  and  literary  training. 
Proficiency  in  this  art  may  at  least  be  said  to  have  laid 
the  foundation  of  Addison's  fortunes.  Leaving  the  Char- 
ter House  in  1687,  at  the  early  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  en- 
tered at  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  and  remained  a  member 
of  that  society  for  two  years,  when  a  copy  of  his  Latin 
verses  fell  into  the  hands  of  Dr.  Lancaster,  then  Fellow^ 
and  afterwards  Provost  of  the  College.  Struck  with  their 
excellence,  Lancaster  used  his  influence  to  obtain  for  him 
a  demyship  at  Magdalen.  The  subject  of  this  fortunate 
set  of  verses  was  "  Liauguratio  Regis  Gulielmi,"  from  which 
fact  yve  may  reasonably  infer  that  even  in  hisboyhood  his 
mind  had  acquired  a  Whig  bias.  Whatever  inclination  he 
may  have  had  in  this  direction  would  have  been  confirmed 
by  the  associations  of  his  new  college.  The  fluctuations 
of  opinion  in  Magdalen  had  been  frequent  and  extraordi- 
nary. Towards  the  close  of  Elizabeth's  reign  it  was  noto- 
rious for  its  Calvinism,  but  under  the  Chancellorship  of 
Laud  it  appears  to  have  adopted,  with  equal  ardour,  the 
cause  of  Arminianism,  for  it  was  among  the  colleges  that 
offered  the  stoutest  opposition  to  the  Puritan  visitors  in 
1647-48.  The  despotic  tendencies  of  James  II.,  however, 
again  cooled  its  loyalty,  and  its  spirited  resistance  to  the 
king's  order  for  the  election  of  a  Roman  Catholic  President 
had  given  a  mortal  blow  to  the  Stuart  dynasty.  Hough 
was  now  President,  but  in  consequence  of  the  dispute  with 
the  king  there  had  been  no  election  of  demies  in  1688,  so 
that  twice  the  usual  number  was  chosen  in  the  following 
year,  and  the  occasion  was  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
the  "  golden  election."     From  Magdalen  Addison  proceed- 


((UITl7ET?g' 

II.]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  \\     >%,       29      '  **"^« 

ed  to  bis  master's  degree  in  1693  ;  the  College  ele8l^i™6P0ll^ 

probationary  Fellow  in  1697,  and  actual  Fellow  tbe  yStl'      ^ 

after.     He  retained  bis  Fellowship  till  1711. 

Of  bis  tastes,  babits,  and  friendships  at  Oxford  there 
are  few  records.     Among  bis  acquaintance  were  Boulter,         * 
afterwards  Archbishop  of  Dublin — whose  memory  is  un- 
enviably  perpetuated,  in  company  with  Ambrose  Phillips, 
in  Pope's  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot, 

"  Does  not  one  table  Bavius  still  admit, 
Still  to  one  Bishop  Phillips  seem  a  wit?" — 

and  possibly  the  famous  Sacheverell.^  He  is  said  to  have 
shown  in  the  society  of  Magdalen  some  of  the  shyness  that 
afterwards  distinguished  him  ;  he  kept  late  hours,  and  read 
chiefly  after  dinner.  The  walk  under  the  well-known  elms 
by  the  Cherwell  is  still  connected  with  his  name.  Though 
be  probably  acted  as  tutor  in  the  college,  the  greater  part 
of  his  quiet  life  at  the  University  was  doubtless  occupied 
in  study.  A  proof  of  his  early  maturity  is  seen  in  the 
fact  that,  in  his  nineteenth  year,  a  young  man  of  birth 
and  fortune,  Mr.  Rushout,  avIio  was  being  educated  at 
Magdalen,  was  placed  under  his  charge. 

His  reputation  as  a  scholar  and  a  man  of  taste  soon  ex- 
tended itself  to  the  world  of  letters  in  London.  In  1693, 
being  then  in  his  twenty-second  year,  he  wrote  his  Account 
of  the  Greatest  English  Poets ;  and  about  the  same  time 
lie  addressed  a  short  copy  of  verses  to  Dry  den,  com  pi  i- 

^  A  note  in  the  edition  of  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets^  published 
in  1801,  states,  on  the  authority  of  a  "Lady  in  Wiltshire,"  who  de-  * 
rived  her  information  from  a  Mr.  Stephens,  a  Fellow  of  Magdalen 
and  a  contemporary  of  Addison's,  that  the  Henry  Saeheverell  to 
whom  Addison  dedicated  his  Account  of  the  Greatest  English  Poets 
was  not  the  well-known  divine,  but  a  personal  friend  of  Addison's, 
who  died  young,  having  written  a  History  of  the  Me  of  Man. 


30     •  ADDISON.  [chap. 

menting  him  on  the  enduring  vigour  of  his  poetical  facul- 
ty, as  shown  in  his  translations  of  Virgil  and  other  Latin 
poets,  some  of  which  had  recently  appeared  in  Tonson's 
Miscellany.  The  old  poet  appears  to  have  been  highly 
gratified,  and  to  have  welcomed  the  advances  thus  made 
to  Iiim,  for  he  returned  Addison's  compliment  by  bestow- 
ing liigh  and  not  unmerited  praise  on  the  translation  of 
the  Fourth  Book  of  the  Georgics,  which  the  latter  soon 
after  undertook,  and  by  printing,  as  a  preface  to  his  own 
translation,  a  discourse  written  by  Addison  on  the  Georgics, 
as  well  as  arguments  to  most  of  the  books  of  the  ^iicid. 
Through  Dryden,  no  doubt,  he  became  acquainted  with 
Jacob  Tonson.  The  father  of  English  publishing  had  for 
some  time  been  a  well-known  figure  in  the  literary  world. 
He  had  purchased  the  copyright  of  Paradise  Lost ;  lie  had 
associated  himself  with  Dryden  in  publishing  before  the 
Revolution  two  volumes  of  Miscellanies ;  encouraged  by 
the  success  which  these  obtained,  he  put  the  poet,  in  1693, 
on  some  translations  of  Juvenal  and  Persius,  and  two  new 
volumes  of  Miscellanies ;  while  in  1697  he  urged  him  to 
undertake  a  translation  of  the  whole  of  the  works  of  Vir- 
gil. Observing  how  strongly  the  public  taste  set  towards 
the  great  classical  writers,  he  was  anxious  to  employ  men 
of  ability  in  the  Avork  of  turning  them  into  English;  and 
it  appears  from  existing  correspondence  that  he  engaged 
Addison,  while  the  latter  was  at  Oxford,  to  superintend 
a  translation  of  Herodotus.  He  also  suggested  a  transla- 
tion of  Ovid.  Addison  undertcn)k  to  procure  coadjutors 
for  the  work  of  translating  the  Greek  historian,  He  him- 
self actually  translated  the  books  called  Polymnia  and 
Urania,  but  for  some  unexplained  reason  the  work  was 
never  published.  For  Ovid  he  seems,  on  the  whole,  to 
*  JiHve  liad  less  inclination.     At  Tonson's  instance  he  trans- 


II.]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  31 

lated  the  Second  Book  of  tlie  Metamorphoses,  wliicli  was 
first  printed  in  the  volume  of  Miscellanies  that  appeared 
in  1697;  but  he  wrote  to  the  publisher  that  "Ovid  had 
so  many  silly  stories  with  his  good  ones  that  he  was  more 
tedious  to  translate  than  a  better  poet  would  be."  His 
study  of  Ovid,  however,  was  of  the  greatest  use  in  devel- 
oping his  critical  faculty ;  the  excesses  and  want  of  judg- 
ment in  that  poet  forced  him  to  reflect,  and  his  observa- 
tions on  the  style  of  his  author  anticipate  his  excellent  re- 
marks on  the  difference  between  True  and  False  Wit  in 
the  sixty-second  number  of  the  Spectator, 

Whoever,  indeed,  compares  these  notes  with  the  Essay 
on  the  Georgics,  and  with  the  opinions  expressed  in  the 
Account  of  the  English  Poets,  will  be  convinced  that  the 
foundations  of  his  critical  method  were  laid  at  this  period 
(1697).  In  the  Essay  on  the  Georgics  he  seems  to  be 
timid  in  the  presence  of  YirgiPs  superiority ;  his  Account 
of  the  English  Poets,  besides  being  impregnated  with  the 
principles  of  taste  prevalent  after  the  Restoration,  shows 
deficient  powers  of  perception  and  appreciation.  The 
name  of  Shakespeare  is  not  mentioned  in  it,  Dryden  and 
Congreve  alone  being  selected  to  represent  the  drama. 
Chaucer  is  described  as  "a  merry  bard,"  whose  humour 
has  become  obsolete  through  time  and  change;  while 
the  rich  pictorial  fancy  of  the  Faery  Queen  is  thus  de- 
scribed : 

*'  Old  Spenser  next,  warmed  with  poetic  rage, 
In  ancient  tales  amused  a  barbarous  age^ — 
An  age  that  yet  uncultivate  and  rude, 
Where'er  the  poet's  fancy  led  pursued, 
Througli  pathless  fields  and  unfrequented  floods, 
To  dens  of  dragons  and  enchanted  woods. 
But  now  the  mystic  tale,  that  pleased  of  yore, 
Can  charm  an  understanding  age  no  more ; 


32  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

Tlie  long-spun  allegories  fulsome  grow, 
While  the  dull  moral  lies  too  plain  below." 

According  to  Pope — always  a  suspicious  witness  where 
Addison  is  concerned — he  had  not  read  Spenser  when  he 
wrote  this  criticism  on  him.^ 

Milton,  as  a  legitimate  successor  of  the  classics,  is  of 
course  appreciated,  but  not  at  all  after  the  elaborate  fash- 
ion of  the  Spectator ;  to  Drjden,  the  most  distinguished 
poet  of  the  day,  deserved  compliments  are  paid,  but  their 
value  is  lessened  by  the  exaggerated  opinion  which  the 
I  writer  entertains  of  Cowley,  who  is  described  as  a  "  mighty 
genius,"  and  is  praised  for  the  inexhaustible  riches  of  his 
imagination.  Throughout  the  poem,  in  fact,  we  observe 
a  remarkable  confusion  of  various  veins  of  thought;  an 
unjust  depreciation  of  the  Gothic  grandeur  of  the  older 
English  poets;  a  just  admiration  for  the  Greek  and  Ro- 
man authors;  a  sense  of  the  necessity  of  good  sense  and 
regularity  in  writings  composed  for  an  '^  understanding 
age;"  and  at  the  same  time  a  lingering  taste  for  the 
forced  invention  and  far-fetched  conceits  that  mark  the 
,  decay  of  the  spirit  of  mediaeval  chivalry. 

With  the  judgments  expressed  in  this  performance  it 
is  instructive  to  compare  such  criticisms  on  Shakespeare 
as  we  find  in  No.  42  of  the  Spectator^  the  papers  on 
"Chevy  Chase"  (73,  74),  and  particularly  the  following 
passage : 

"As  true  wit  consists  in  the  resemblance  of  ideas,  and  false  wit 
in  the  resemblance  of  words,  according  to  the  foregoing  instances, 
there  is  another  kind  of  wit  which  consists  partly  in  the  resemblance 
of  ideas  and  partly  in  the  resemblance  of  words,  which,  for  distinc- 
tion's sake,  I  shall  call  mixed  wit.  This  kind  of  wit  is  that  which 
abounds  in  Cowley  more  than  in  any  author  that  ever  wrote.     Mr. 

^  Spence's  Anecdotes^  p.  ,50. 


II.]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATlOxY.  33 

Waller  has  likewise  a  great  deal  of  it.  Mr.  Dryden  is  very  sparing 
in  it.  Milton  has  a  genius  much  above  it.  Spenser  h  in  the  same 
class  with  Milton.  The  Italians  even  in  their  epic  poetry  are  full  of 
it.  Monsieur  Boileau,  who  formed  himself  upon  the  ancient  poets, 
has  everywhere  rejected  it  with  scorn.  If  we  look  after  mixed  wit 
among  the  Greeks,  we  shall  find  it  nowhere  but  in  the  epigramma- 
tists. There  are,  indeed,  some  strokes  of  it  in  the  little  poem  as- 
cribed to  Mussens,  which  by  that,  as  well  as  many  other  marks,  be- 
trays itself  to  be  a  modern  composition.  If  we  look  into  the  Latin 
writers  we  find  none  of  tliis  mixed  wit  in  Virgil,  Lucretius,  or  Catul- 
lus; very  little  in  Horace,  but  a  great  deal  of  it  in  Ovid,  and  scarce 
anything  else  in  Martial." 

The  stepping-stone  from  the  immaturity  of  the  early 
criticisms  in  the  Account  of  the  Greatest  English  Poets  to 
the  finished  ease  of  the  Spectator  is  to  be  found  in  the 
notes  to  the  translation  of  Ovid.^ 

The  time  came  when  he  was  obliged  to  form  a  decision 
affecting  the  entire  course  of  his  life.  Tonson,  who  had 
a  wide  acquaintance,  no  doubt  introduced  him  to  Congreve 
and  the  leading  men  of  letters  in  London,  and  through 
them  he  was  presented  to  Somers  and  Montague.  Those 
ministers  perhaps  persuaded  hiin,  as  a  point  of  etiquette, 
to  write,  in  1695,  his  Address  to  King  William^  a  poem 
composed  in  a  vein  of  orthodox  hyperbole,  all  of  which 
must  have  been  completely  thrown  away  on  that  most 
un poetical  of  monarchs.  Yet  in  spite  of  those  seductions 
Addison  lingered  at  Oxford.  To  retain  his  Fellowship  it 
was  necessary  for  him  to  take  orders.  II. id  he  done  so, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  literary  skill  and  his  value 
as  a  political  partizan  would  have  opened  for  him  a  road 
to  the  highest  preferment.     At  that  time  the  clergy  were 

^  Compare  the  Notes  on  the  Metamorphoses^  Fab.  v.  (Tickell's  edi- 
tion, vol.  vi.  p.  183),  where  the  substance  of  the  above  passage  is 
found  in  embrvo. 


34  ADDISON.  [chap. 

far  from  thinking  it  unbecoming  to  their  cloth  to  fight  in 
the  political  arena  or  to  take  part  in  journalism.  Swift 
would  have  been  advanced  to  a  bishopric,  as  a  reward  for 
his  political  services,  if  it  had  not  been  for  tlie  prejudice 
entertained  towards  him  by  Queen  Anne ;  Boulter,  rector 
of  St.  Saviour's,  Southwark,  having  made  himself  conspic- 
uous by  editing  a  paper  called  the  Freethinker,  was  raised 
to  the  Primacy  of  Ireland  ;  Hoadley,  the  notorious  Bishop 
of  Bangor,  edited  the  London  Journal ;  the  honours  that 
were  awarded  to  two  men  of  such  second-rate  intellectual 
capacity  would  hardly  have  been  denied  to  Addison,  lie 
was  inclined  in  this  direction  by  the  example  and  advice 
of  his  father,  who  was  now  Dean  6f  Lichfield,  and  who 
was  urgent  on  his  son  to  rid  himself  of  the  pecuniary  em- 
barrassments in  which  he  was  involved  by  embracing  the 
Church  as  a  profession.  A  few  years  before  he  had  him- 
self seemed  to  look  upon  the  Church  as  his  future  sphere. 
In  his  Account  of  the  Greatest  English  Poets  he  says : 

*'  I  leave  the  arts  of  poetry  and  verse 
To  them  that  practise  them  with  more  success. 
Of  greater  truths  I'll  now  propose  to  tell, 
And  so  at  once,  dear  friend  and  muse,  farewell." 

Had  he  followed  up  his  intention  we  might  have  known 
the  name  of  Addison  as  that  of  an  artful  controversial- 
ist, and  perhaps  as  a  famous  writer  of  sermons ;  but  we 
should,  in  all  probability,  have  never  heard  of  the  Spec- 
tator, 

Fortunately  for  English  letters,  other  influences  pre- 
vailed to  give  a  different  direction  to  his  fortunes.  It  is 
true  that  Tickell,  Addison's  earliest  biographer,  states  that 
his  determination  not  to  take  orders  was  the  result  of  his 
own  habitual  self-distrust,  and  of  a  fear  of  the  responsibil- 
ities which  the  clerical  office  would  involve.     But  Steele, 


11  ]  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  35 

who  was  better  acquainted  with  his  friend's  private  his- 
tory, on  reading  TickelFs  Memoir,  addressed  a  letter  to 
Congreve  on  the  subject,  in  which  he  says : 

"  These,  you  know  very  well,  were  not  the  reasons  which  made 
Mr.  Addison  turn  his  thoughts  to  the  civil  world ;  and,  as  you  were 
the  instrument  of  his  becoming  acquainted  with  Lord  Halifax,  I 
doubt  not  but  you  remember  the  warm  instances  that  noble  lord 
made  to  the  head  of  the  College  not  to  insist  upon  Mr.  Addison's 
going  into  orders.  Ilis  arguments  were  founded  upon  the  general 
pravity  and  corruption  of  men  of  business,  who  wanted  liberal  edu- 
cation. And  I  remember,  as  if  I  had  read  the  letter  yesterday,  that 
my  lord  ended  with  a  compliment  that,  however  he  might  be  repre- 
sented as  a  friend  to  the  Church,  he  never  would  do  it  any  other  in- 
jury than  keeping  Mr.  Addison  out  of  it." 

No  doubt  the  real  motive  of  the  interest  in  Addison 
shown  by  Lord  Halifax,  at  that  time  known  as  Charles 
Montague,  was  an  anxiety  which  he  shared  with  all  the 
leading  statesmen  of  the  period,  and  of  which  more  will 
be  said  presently,  to  secure  for  his  party  the  services  of 
the  ablest  writers.  Finding  his  protege  as  yet  hardly  quali- 
fied to  transact  affairs  of  State,  he  joined  with  Lord  Som- 
ers,  who  had  also  fixed  his  eyes  on  Addison,  in  soliciting 
for  him  from  the  Crown,  in  1699,  a  pension  of  £300  a 
year,  which  might  enable  him  to  supplement  his  literary 
accomplishments  with  the  practical  experience  of  travel. 
Addison  naturally  embraced  the  offer.  He  looked  forward 
to  studying  the  political  institutions  of  foreign  countries, 
to  seeing  the  spots  of  which  he  had  read  in  his  favourite 
classical  authors,  and  to  meeting  the  most  famous  men  of 
letters  on  the  Continent. 

It  is  characteristic  both  of  his  own  tastes  and  of  his  age 
that  he  seems  to  have  thought  his  best  passport  to  intel- 
lectual  society  abroad  would  be  his  Latin  poems.     His 


36  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

verses  on  the  Peace  of  Ryswick,  written  in  1697  and  dedi- 
cated to  Montague,  had  ah'eady  procured  him  great  repu- 
tation, and  had  been  praised  by  Edmund  Smith — a  high 
authority — as  "  the  best  Latin  poem  since  the  ^neid.^^ 
This  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  collecting  his  various 
compositions  of  the  same  kind,  and  in  1699  he  published 
from  the  Sheldonian  Press  a  second  volume  of  the  Musce 
Anglicance — the  first  having  appeared  in  1691 — containing 
poems  by  various  Oxford  scholars.  Among  the  contrib- 
utors were  ITanncs,  one  of  the  many  scholarly  physicians 
of  the  period  ;  J.  Philips,  the  author  of  the  Splendid  Shil- 
ling ;  and  Alsop,  a  prominent  antagonist  of  Bentley,  whose 
Horatian  humour  is  celebrated  by  Pope  in  the  Dunciad,^ 

But  the  most  interesting  of  the  names  in  the  volume  is 
that  of  the  once  celebrated  Edmond,  commonly  called 
*'Kag,"  Smith,  author  of  the  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Dr.  Po- 
cock^  who  seems  to  have  been  among  Addison's  intimate 
acquaintance,  and  deserves  to  be  recollected  in  connection 
with  him  on  account  of  a  certain  similarity  in  their  genius 
and  the  extraordinary  difference  in  their  fortunes.  "  Rag  " 
was  a  man  of  fine  accomplishments  and  graceful  humour, 
but,  like  other  scholars  of  the  same  class,  indolent  and 
licentious.  In  spite  of  great  indulgence  extended  to  him 
by  the  authorities  of  Christ  Church,  he  was  expelled  from 
the  University  in  consequence  of  his  irregularities.  His 
friends  stood  by  him,  and,  through  the  interest  of  Addi- 
son, a  proposal  was  made  to  him  to  undertake  a  history  of 
the  Revolution,  which,  however,  from  political  scruples  he 
felt  himself  obliged  to  decline.  Like  Addison,  he  wrote  a 
tragedy  modelled  on  classical  lines ;  but,  as  it  had  no  po- 
litical significance,  it  only  pleased  the  critics,  without,  like 
"  Cato,"  interesting  the  public.  Like  Addison,  too,  he  had 
»  Du7iciad,  Book  iv.  224. 


II.J  FAMILY  AND  EDUCATION.  37 

an  opportunity  of  profiting*  by  the  patronage  of  Halifax, 
but  laziness  or  whim  prevented  him  from  keeping  an  ap- 
pointment which  the  laUer  had  made  with  him,  and  caused 
him  to  miss  a  place  worth  £300  a  year.  Addison,  by  his 
own  exertions,  rose  to  posts  of  honour  and  profit,  and  to- 
wards the  close  of  his  life  became  Secretary  of  State. 
Smith  envied  his  advancement,  and,  ignoring  the  fact  that 
his  own  failure  was  entirely  due  to  himself,  murmured  at 
fortune  for  leaving  him  in  poverty.  Yet  he  estimated  his 
wants  at  £600  a  year,  and  died  of  indulgence  when  he  can 
scarcely  have  been  more  than  forty  years  of  age. 

Addison's  compositions  in  the  Musce  Anglicance  are 
eight  in  number.  All  of  them  are  distinguished  by  the 
ease  and  flow  of  the  versification,  but  they  are  generally 
wanting  in  originality.  The  best  of  them  is  the  Pygmceo- 
Gerano-Machia,  which  is  also  interesting  as  showing  traces 
of  that  rich  vein  of  humour  which  Addison  worked  out  in 
the  Tatler  and  Spectator,  The  mock-heroic  style  in  prose 
and  verse  was  sedulously  cultivated  in  England  through- 
out the  eighteenth  century.  Swift,  Pope,  Arbuthnot,  and 
Fielding,  developed  it  in  various  forms;  but  Addison's 
Latin  poem  is  perhaps  the  first  composition  in  which  the 
fine  fancy  and  invention  afterwards  shown  in  the  Rape  of 
the  Lock  and  Gulliver'^s  Travels  conspicuously  displayed 
itself. 

A  literary  success  of  this  kind  at  that  epoch  gave  a 
writer  a  wider  reputation  than  he  could  gain  by  composi- 
tions in  his  own  language.  Armed,  therefore,  with  copies 
of  the  Musce  Anglicance  for  presentation  to  scholars,  and 
with  Halifax's  recommendatory  letters  to  men  of  political 
distinction,  Addison  started  for  the  Continent. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

ADDISON    ON   HIS    TRAVELS. 

Travelling  Iq  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries 
involved  an  amount  of  thought  and  precaution  which 
would  have  seemed  inconvenient  to  the  tourist  accustomed 
to  abandon  himself  to  the  authority  of  guide-books,  cou- 
riers, and  railway  companies.  By  ardent  spirits  like  Rod- 
crick  Random  it  was  regarded  as  the  sphere  of  enterprise 
and  fortune,  and  not  without  reason,  in  days  when  advent- 
ures were  to  be  met  with  on  almost  every  road  in  the  coun- 
try, and  in  the  streets  and  inns  of  the  towns.  The  graver 
portion  of  society,  on  the  other  hand,  considered  it  as  part 
of  the  regular  course  of  education  through  which  every 
young  man  of  position  ought  to  pass  before  entering  into 
active  life.  French  was  the  universally  recognised  lan- 
guage of  diplomacy.  French  manners  and  conversation 
were  considered  to  be  the  best  school  for  politeness,  while 
Italy  was  held  in  the  highest  respect  by  the  northern  na- 
tions as  the  source  of  revived  art  and  letters.  Some  of  the 
most  distinguished  Englishmen  of  the  time  looked,  it  is 
true,  with  little  favour  on  this  fashionable  training.  "  Lord 
Cowper,"  says  Spence,  on  the  information  of  Dr.  Cony- 
beare,  "  on  his  death-bed  ordered  that  his  son  should  never 
travel  (it  is  by  the  absolute  desire  of  the  Queen  that  he 


CHAP,  m.]  HIS  TRAVELS.  39 

does).  He  ordered  this  from  a  good  deal  of  observation 
on  its  effects;  he  had  found  that  there  was  little  to  be 
hoped,  and  much  to  be  feared,  from  travelling.  Atwell, 
who  is  the  young  lord's  tutor  abroad,  gives  but  a  very  dis- 
couraging account  of  it,  too,  in  his  letters,  and  seems  to 
think  that  people  are  sent  out  too  young,  and  are  too 
hasty  to  find  any  great  good  from  it." 

On  some  of  the  stronger  and  more  enthusiastic  minds 
the  chief  effect  of  the  grand  tour  was  to  produce  a  violent 
hatred  of  all  foreign  manners.  Dennis,  the  critic,  for  in- 
stance, who,  after  leaving  Cambridge,  spent  some  time  on 
the  Continent,  returned  with  a  confirmed  dislike  to  the 
French,  and  ostentatiously  displayed  in  his  writings  how 
much  he  held  "  dragoons  and  wooden  shoes  in  scorn ;" 
and  it  is  amusing  to  find  Addison  at  a  later  date  making 
his  Tory  fix-hunter  declare  this  anti-Gallican  temper  to 
be  the  main  fruits  of  foreign  travel. 

But,  in  general,  what  was  intended  to  be  a  school  for 
manners  and  political  instruction  proved  rather  a  source 
of  unsettlemcnt  and  dissipation ;  and  the  vigorous  and 
glowing  lines  in  which  Pope  makes  the  tutor  describe  to 
Dullness  the  doings  of  the  "young  ^neas"  abroad,  may 
be  taken  as  a  faithful  picture  of  the  travelled  pupil  of  the 
period : 

"  Intrepid  then  o'er  seas  and  land  he  flew ; 
Europe  he  saw,  and  Europe  saw  him  too. 
There  all  thy  gifts  and  graces  we  display, 
Thou,  only  thou,  directing  all  our  way ! 
To  where  the  Seine,  obsequious  as  she  runs, 
Pours  at  great  Bourbon's  feet  her  silken  sons; 
Or  Tyber,  now  no  longer  Roman,  rolls, 
Vain  of  Italian  arts,  Italian  souls  : 
To  happy  convents  bosomed  deep  in  vines, 
Where  slumber  abbots  purple  as  their  wines : 


40  ADDISON.  [chap. 

To  isles  of  fragrance,  lily-silvered  vales, 
Diffusing  languor  in  the  panting  gales : 
To  lands  of  singing  or  of  dancing  slaves, 
Love-whispering  woods,  and  lute-resounding  waves. 
But  chief  her  shrine  where  naked  Venus  keeps, 
And  Cupids  ride  the  Hon  of  the  deeps ; 
Where,  eased  of  fleets,  the  Adriatic  main 
Wafts  the  smooth  eunuch  and  enamoured  swain. 
Led  by  my  hand,  he  sauntered  Europe  round, 
And  gathered  every  vice  on  Christian  ground ; 
Saw  every  court,  heard  every  king  declare 
His  royal  sense  of  operas  or  the  fair ; 
The  stews  and  palace  equally  explored. 
Intrigued  with  glory,  and  with  spirit  whored ; 
Tried  all  ho7's-d^ceuvreSy  all  liqueurs  defined. 
Judicious  drank,  and  greatly  daring  dined ; 
Dropped  the  dull  lumber  of  the  Latin  store, 
Spoiled  his  own  language,  and  acquired  no  more ; 
All  classic  learning  lost  on  classic  ground ; 
And  last  turned  air,  the  echo  of  a  sound." 

It  is  needless   to   say   that  Addison's   experiences   of 
!  travel  were  of  a  very  different  kind.     He  left  England  in 
\  his  twenty-eighth  year,  with  a  mind  well  equipped  from  a 
i  study  of  the  best  authors,  and  with  the  intention  of  quali- 
!  fying  himself  for  political  employment  at  home,  after  fa- 
miliarising himself  with  the  languages  and  manners  of 
foreign  countries.     His  sojourn  abroad  extended  over  four 
years,  and  his  experience  was  more  than  usually  varied  and 
comprehensive.    Crossing  from  Dover  to  Calais,  some  time 
in  the  summer  of  1699,  he  spent  nearly  eighteen  months  in 
France  making  himself  master  of  the  language.     In  De- 
cember, 1700,  he  embarked  at  Marseilles  for  a  tour  in  It- 
aly, and  visited  in  succession  the  following  places :  Monaco, 
Genoa,  Pavia,  Milan,  Brescia,  Yerona,  Padua,  Venice,  Fer- 
rara,  Ravenna,  Rimini,  S.  Marino,  Pesaro,  Fano,  Sinigaglia, 


III.]  HIS  THAVELS.  41 

Ancona,  Loreto,  Rome  (where,  as  it  was  his  intention  to  re- 
turn, he  only  visited  St.  Peter's  and  the  Pantheon),  Naples, 
Capri,  whence  he  came  back  to  Rome  by  sea,  the  various 
towns  in  the  neighbourhood  of- Rome,  Siena,  Leghorn,  Pisa, 
Lucca,  Florence,  Bologna,  Modena,  Parma,  and  Turin. 
Thus,  in  the  course  of  this  journey,  which  lasted  exactly  a 
twelvemonth,  he  twice  crossed  the  Apennines,  and  made 
acquaintance  with  all  the  more  important  cities  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  Peninsula.  In  December,  1701,  he 
passed  over  Mont  Cenis  to  Geneva,  proceeding  then  by 
Fribourg,  Berne,  Soleure,  Zurich,  St.  Gall,  Linden,  Insbruck, 
Hall,  to  Vienna,  where  he  arrived  in  the  autumn  of  1702. 
After  making  a  brief  stay  in  the  Austrian  capital  he  turned 
his  face  homewards,  and  having  visited  the  Protestant 
cities  of  Germany,  and  made  a  rather  longer  stay  in  Ham- 
burg than  in  any  other,  he  reached  Holland  in  the  spring 
of  1703,  and  remained  in  that  country  till  his  return  to 
England,  some  time  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year. 

During  his  journey  he  made  notes  for  his  RemarJcs  on 
Italy,  which  he  published  immediately  on  his  return  home, 
and  he  amused  himself,  while  crossing  Mont  Cenis,  with 
composing  his  Letter  to  Lord  Halifax,  which  contains, 
perhaps,  the  best  verses  he  ever  wrote.  Though  the 
ground  over  which  he  passed  was  well  trodden,  and  though 
he  possessed  none  of  the  special  knowledge  which  gives 
value  to  the  observations  of  travellers  like  Arthur  Young, 
yet  his  remarks  on  the  people  and  places  he  saw  are  the 
product  of  an  original  mind,  and  his  illustrations  of  his 
route  from  the  Latin  poets  are  remarkably  happy  and 
graceful.  It  is  interesting,  also,  to  observe  how  many  of 
the  thoughts  and  suggestions  which  occurred  to  him  on 
the  road  are  afterwards  worked  up  into  papers  for  the 
Spectator. 


42  ADDISON.  [chap. 

When  Addison  landed  in  France,  in  1699,  the  power  of 
Louis  XIY.,  so  long  the  determined  enemy  of  the  English 
Revolution  of  1688,  had  passed  its  climax.  'The  Peace 
of  Ryswick,  by  which  the  hopes  of  the  Jacobites  were 
finally  demolished,  was  two  years  old.  The  king,  disap- 
pointed in  his  dreams  of  boundless  military  glory,  had 
fallen  into  a  fit  of  devotion,  and  Addison,  arriving  from 
England  with  a  very  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  language, 
was  astonished  to  find  the  whole  of  French  literature  sat- 
urated with  the  royal  taste.  "  As  for  the  state  of  learn- 
ing," says  he,  in  a  letter  to  Montague,  dated  August,  1699, 
"there  is  no  book  comes  out  at  present  that  has  not  some- 
thing in  it  of  an  air  of  devotion,  l^acicr  has  bin  forced 
to  prove  his  Plato  a  very  good  Christian  before  he  vent- 
ures upon  his  translation,  and  has  so  far  comply'd  with  y® 
tast  of  the  age  that  his  whole  book  is  overrun  with  texts 
of  Scripture,  and  y^  notion  of  prse-existence,  supposed  to 
be  stolen  from  two  verses  of  y^  prophets.  Nay,  y®  hu- 
mour is  grown  so  universal  that  it  is  got  among  y^  poets, 
who  are  every  day  publishing  Lives  of  Saints  and  Legends 
in  Rhime." 

Finding,  perhaps,  that  the  conversation  at  the  capital 
was  not  very  congenial  to  his  taste,  he  seems  to  have  hur- 
ried on  to  Blois,  a  town  then  noted  for  the  purity  with 
which  its  inhabitants  spoke  the  French  language,  and 
where  he  had  determined  to  make  his  temporary  abode. 
His  only  record  of  his  first  impressions  of  Paris  is  a  casual 
criticism  of  "  y^  King's  Statue  that  is  lately  set  up  in  the 
Place  Vendome."  He  visited,  however,  both  Versailles  and 
Fontainebleau,  and  the  preference  which  he  gives  to  the 
latter  (in  a  letter  to  Congreve)  is  iilteresting,  as  anticipate 
■  ing  that  taste  for  natural  as  opposed  to  artificial  beauty 
which  he  afterwards  expressed  in  the  Sj)ectator. 


III.]  HIS  TRAVELS.  43 

"  I  don't  believe,  as  good  a  poet  as  you  are,  that  you  can  make  finer 
Lanskips  than  those  about  the  King's  houses,  or  with  all  yo"*  descrip- 
tions build  a  more  magnificent  palace  than  Yersailles.  I  am,  how- 
ever, so  singular  as  to  prefer  Fontainebleau  to  the  rest.  It  is  situ- 
ated among  rocks  and  woods  that  give  you  a  fine  variety  of  Savage 
prospects.  The  King  has  Humoured  the  Genius  of  the  place,  and 
only  made  of  so  much  art  as  is  necessary  to  Help  and  regulate  Nat- 
ure, without  reforming  her  too  much.  ■  The  Cascades  seem  to  break 
through  the  Clefts  and  Cracks  of  Rocks  that  are  covered  over  with 
Moss,  and  look  as  if  they  were  pile(i  upon  one  another  by  Accident. 
There  is  an  artificial  wildness  in  the  Meadows,  Walks,  and  Canals, 
and  y®  Garden,  instead  of  a  Wall,  is  Fenced  on  the  Lower  End  by  a 
Natural  Mound  of  Rock-work  that  strikes  tho  eye  very  agreeably. 
For  my  part,  I  think  there  is  something  more  charming  in  these  rude 
heaps  of  Stone  than  in  so  many  Statues,  and  wou'd  as  soon  see  a 
River  winding  through  Woods  and  Meadows  as  when  it  is  tossed  up 
in  such  a  variety  of  figures  at  Versailles."  ^ 

Here  and  there,  too,  his  correspondence  exhibits  traces 
of  that  delicate  vein  of  ridicule  in  which  he  is  without  a 
rival,  as  in  the  following  inimitable  description  of  Le  Brun's 
paintings  at  Versailles : 

"The  painter  has  represented  his  most  Xtian  Majesty  under  y®  fig- 
ure of  Jupiter  throwing  thunderbolts  all  about  the  ceiling,  and  strik- 
ing terror  into  y®  Danube  and  Rhine,  that  lie  astonished  and  blasted 
a  little  above  the  Cornice." 

Of  his  life  at  Blois  a  very  slight  sketch  has  been  pre- 
served by  the  Abbe  Philippeaux,  one  of  the  many  gossip- 
ping  informants  from  whom  Spence  collected  his  anec- 
dotes : 

"Mr.  Addison  sta3^ed  above  a  year  at  Blois.     He  would  rise  as 

^  Compare  Spectator^  414.  "  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  singular 
in  my  opinion,  but  for  my  part  I  would  rather  look  upon  a  tree  in  all 
its  luxuriancy  and  diffusion  of  boughs  and  branches,  rather  than  wlien 
it  is  thus  cut  and  trimmed  into  a  mathematical  figure ;  and  cannot 
but  fancy  that  an  orchard  in  flower  looks  infinitely  more  delightful 
than  all  tho  little  labyrinths  of  the  finished  parterre." 
3 


44  ADDISON.  [chap. 

early  as  between  two  and  three  in  summer,  and  lie  abed  till  between 
eleven  and  twelve  in  the  depth  of  winter.  He  was  untalkative  while 
here,  and  often  thoughtful ;  sometimes  so  lost  in  thought  that  I  have 
come  into  his  room  and  have  stayed  five  minutes  there  before  he 
has  known  anything  of  it.  He  had  his  masters  generally  at  supper 
with  him,  kept  very  little  company  beside,  and  had  no  amour  whilst 
here  that  I  know  of,  and  I  think  I  should  have  known  it  if  he  had 
had  any." 

The  following  characteristic  letter  to  a  gentleman  of 
Blois,  with  whom  he  seems  to  have  had  an  altercation,  is 
interesting  as  showing  the  mixture  of  coolness  and  dignity, 
the  "  blood  and  judgment  well  commingled''  vdiich  Hamlet 
praised  in  Horatio,  and  which  are  conspicuous  in  all  Addi- 
son's actions  as  well  as  in  his  writings : 

"  Sir, — I  am  always  as  slow  in  making  an  Enemy  as  a  Friend,  and 
am  therefore  very  ready  to  come  to  an  Accommodation  with  you  ;  but 
as  for  any  satisfaction,  I  don't  think  it  is  due  on  either  side  when  y« 
Affront  is  mutual.  You  know  very  well  that  according  to  y®  opinion 
of  y^  world  Ji  man  would  as  soon  be  called  a  Knave  as  a  Fool,  and  I 
believe  most  people  w<*  be  rather  thought  to  want  Legs  than  Brains. 
But  I  suppose  whatever  we  said  in  y^  heat  of  discourse  is  not  y^  real 
opinion  we  have  of  each  other,  since  otherwise  you  would  have  scorned 
to  subscribe  yourself  as  I  do  at  present,  S"",  y*"  very,  etc. 

A.  Mons^  L'Espagnol, 
Blois,  10^'  1699." 

The  length  of  Addison's  sojourn  at  Blois  seems  to  have 
been  partly  caused  by  the  diflSculty  he  experienced,  owing 
to  the  defectiveness  of  his  memory,  in  mastering  the  lan- 
guage. Finding  himself  at  last  able  to  converse  easily,  he 
returned  to  Paris  some  time  in  the  autumn  of  1700,  in 
order  to  see  a  little  of  polite  society  there  before  starting 
on  his  travels  in  Italy.  He  found  the  best  company  in 
I  he  capital  among  the  men  of  letters,  and  he  makes  especial 
mention  of  Malebranche,  whom  he  describes  as  solicitous 


III.]  lilS  TRAVELS.  45 

about  the  adequate  rendering  of  his  works  into  English; 
and  of  Boileau,  who,  having  now  survived  almost  all  his 
literary  friends,  seems,  in  his  conversation  with  Addison, 
to  have  been  even  more  than  usually  splenetic  in  his  judg- 
ments on  his  contemporaries.  The  old  poet  and  critic 
was,  however,  propitiated  with  the  present  of  the  Musce 
Anglicance;  and,  according  to  Tickell,  said  "that  he  did 
not  question  there  were  excellent  compositions  in  the  na- 
tive language  of  a  country  that  possessed  the  Roman  genius 
in  so  eminent  a  degree." 

In  general,  Addison's  remarks  on  the  French  character 
are  not  complimentary.  He  found  the  vanity  of  the  people 
so  elated  by  the  elevation  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou  to  the 
throne  of  Spain  that  they  were  insupportable,  and  he  felt 
no  reluctance  to  quit  France  for  Italy.  His  observations 
on  the  national  manners,  as  seen  at  Blois,  are  character- 
istic : 

"  Truly,  by  what  I  have  yet  seen,  they  are  the  Happiest  nation  in 
the  world.  'Tis  not  in  the  pow'r  of  Want  or  Slavery  to  make  'em 
miserable.  There  is  nothing  to  be  met  with  in  the  Country  but  Mirth 
and  Poverty.  Ev'ry  one  sings,  laughs,  and  starves.  Their  Conver- 
sation is  generally  Agreeable ;  for  if  they  have  any  Wit  or  Sense  they 
are  sure  to  show  it.  They  never  mend  upon  a  Second  meeting,  but 
use  all  the  freedom  and  familiarity  at  first  Sight  that  a  long  Intimacy 
or  Abundance  of  wine  can  scarce  draw  from  an  Enghshman.  Their 
Women  r.re  perfect  Mistresses  in  this  Art  of  showing  themselves  to 
the  best  Advantage.  They  are  always  gay  and  sprightly,  and  set  off 
y«  worst  faces  in  Europe  with  y^  best  airs.  Ev'ry  one  knows  how  to 
give  herself  as  charming  a  look  and  posture  as  S*"  Godfrey  Kneller  c«* 
draw  her  in."  ^ 

He  embarked  from  Marseilles  for  Genoa  in  December, 
1700,  having  as  his  companion  Edward  Wortley  Montague, 

^  Letter  to  the  Right  Honourable  Charles  Montague,  Esq.,  Blois, 
lObf  1699. 


46  ADDISON.  [chap. 

whom  Pope  satirises  under  the  various  names  of  Shylock, 
Worldly,  and  Avidien.  It  is  unnecessary  to  follow  him  step 
by  step  in  his  travels,  but  the  reader  of  his  Letter  to  Lord 
Halifax  may  still  enjoy  the  delight  and  enthusiasm  to  which 
he  gives  utterance  on  finding  liimself  among  the  scenes  de- 
scribed in  his  favourite  authors : 

**  Poetic  fields  encompass  me  around, 
And  still  I  seem  to  tread  on  classic  ground ; 
For  here  the  Muse  so  oft  her  harp  has  strung, 
That  not  a  mountain  rears  its  head  unsung ; 
Renowned  in  verse  each  shady  thicket  grows, 
And  every  stream  in  heavenly  numbers  flows."  ^ 

The  phrase  "  classic  ground,"  which  has  become  proverbial, 
is  first  used  in  these  verses,  and,  as  will  have  been  observed, 
Pope  repeats  it  with  evident  reference  to  the  above  passage 
in  his  satire  on  th'e  travels  of  the  *'  young  JEneas."  Addi- 
son seems  to  have  carried  the  Latin  poets  with  him,  and  his 
quotations  from  them  are  abundant  and  apposite.  When 
he  is  driven  into  the  harbour  at  Monaco,  he  remembers 
Lucan's  description  of  its  safety  and  shelter ;  as  he  passes 
under  Monte  Circeo,  he  feels  that  Virgil's  description  of 
^neas's  voyage  by  the  same  spot  can  never  be  sufficiently 
admired;  he  recalls,  as  he  crosses  the  Apennines,  the  fine 
lines  of  Claudian  recording  the  march  of  Honorius  from 
Ravenna  to  Rome ;  and  he  delights  to  think  that  at  the 
falls  of  the  Velino  he  can  still  see  the  "angry  goddess"  of 
the  ^neid  (Alecto)  "  thus  sinking,  as  it  were,  in  a  tempest, 
and  plunging  herself  into  Hell"  amidst  such  a  scene  of 
horror  and  confusion. 

Mis  enthusiastic  appreciation  of  the  classics,  which  caused 
him  in  judging  any  work  of  art  to  look,  in  the  first  place, 
for  regularity  of  design  and  simplicity  cf  effect,  shows  it' 
'  Letter  from  Italy  to  Lord  Halifax. 


liLj  HIS  TRAVELS.  47 

self  characteristically  in  his  remarks  on  the  Lombard  and 
German  styles  of  architecture  in  Italy.  Of  Milan  Cathe- 
dral he  speaks  without  much  admiration,  but  he  was  im- 
pressed with  the  wonders  of  the  Certosa  near  Pavia.  "  I 
saw,"  says  he,  "between  Pavia  and  Milan  the  convent 
of  the  Carthusians,  which  is  very  spacious  and  beautiful. 
Their  church  is  very  fine  and  curiously  adorned,  hut  of  a 
Gothic  structure."  His  most  interesting  criticism,  how- 
ever, is  that  on  the  Duomo  at  Siena : 

"  When  a  man  sees  the  prodigious  pains  and  expense  that  our 
forefathers  have  been  at  in  these  barbarous  buildings,  one  cannot 
but  fancy  to  himself  what  miracles  of  architecture  they  would  have 
left  us  had  they  only  been  instructed  in  the  right  way ;  for,  when 
the  devotion  of  those  ages  was  much  warmer  than  that  of  the  pres- 
ent, and  the  riches  of  the  people  much  more  at  the  disposal  of  the 
priests,  there  was  so  much  money  consumed  on  these  Gothic  cathe- 
drals as  would  have  finished  a  greater  variety  of  noble  buildings 
than  have  been  raised  either  before  or  since  that  time.  One  would 
wonder  to  see  the  vast  labour  that  has  been  laid  out  on  this  single 
cathedral.  The  very  spouts  are  loaden  with  ornaments,  the  windows 
are  formed  like  so  many  scenes  of  perspective,  with  a  multitude  of 
little  pillars  retiring  behind  one  another,  the  great  columns  are  finely 
engraven  with  fruits  and  foliage,  that  run  twisting  about  them  from 
the  very  top  to  the  bottom ;  the  whole  body  of  the  church  is  cheq- 
uered with  different  lays  of  black  and  white  marble,  the  pavement 
curiously  cut  out  in  designs  and  Scripture  stories,  and  the  front  cov- 
ered with  such  a  variety  of  figures,  and  overrun  with  so  many  mazes 
and  little  labyrinths  of  sculpture,  that  nothing  in  the  world  can 
make  a  prettier  show  to  those  who  prefer  false  beauties  and  affected 
ornaments  to  a  noble  and  majestic  simplicity."  ^ 

Addison  had  not  reached  that  large  liberality  in  criti- 
cism afterwards  attained  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who, 
while  insisting  that  in-  all  art  there  was  but  one  true  style, 
nevertheless  allowed  very  high  merit  to  what  he  called  the 
^  Addison's  Works  (Tick ell's  edition),  vol.  v.  p.  301. 


48  ADDISON.  [chap. 

characteristic  styles.  Sir  Joshua  would  never  have  fallen 
into  the  error  of  imputing  affectation  to  such  simple  and 
honest  workmen  as  the  early  architects  of  Northern  Italy. 
The  effects  of  Addison's  classical  training  are  also  very 
visible  in  his  descriptions  of  natural  scenery.  There  is  in 
these  nothing  of  that  craving  melancholy  produced  by  a 
sense  of  the  infinity  of  nature  which  came  into  vogue  after 
the  French  Kevolution  ;  no  projection  of  the  feelings  of 
the  spectator  into  the  external  scene  on  which  he  gazes ; 
nor,  on  the  other  hand,  is  there  any  attempt  to  rival  the 
art  of  the  painter  by  presenting  a  landscape  in  words  in- 
stead of  in  colours.  He  looks  on  nature  with  the  same 
clear  sight  as  the  Greek  and  Eoman  writers,  and  in  de- 
scribing a  scene  he  selects  those  particulars  in  it  which  he 
thinks  best  adapted  to  arouse  pleasurable  images  in  the 
mind  of  the  reader.  Take,  for  instance,  the  following  ex- 
cellent description  of  his  passage  over  the  Apennines : 

"  The  fatigue  of  our  crossing  the  Apennines,  and  of  our  whole 
journey  from  Loretto  to  Rome,  was  very  agreeably  relieved  by  the 
variety  of  scenes  we  passed  through.  For,  not  to  mention  the  rude 
prospect  of  rocks  rising  one  above  another,  of  the  deep  gutters  worn 
in  the  sides  of  them  by  torrents  of  rain  and  snow-water,  or  the  lon^^ 
channels  of  sand  winding  about  their  bottoms  that  are  sometimes 
filled  with  so  many  rivers,  we  saw  in  six  days'  travelling  the  sev- 
eral seasons  of  the  year  in  their  beauty  and  perfection.  We  wero 
sometimes  shivering  on  the  top  of  a  bleak  mountain,  and  a  little 
while  afterwards  basking  in  a  warm  valley,  covered  with  violets  and 
almond -trees  in  blossom,  the  bees  already  swarming  over  them, 
though  but  in  the  month  of  February.  Sometimes  our  road  led  us 
through  groves  of  olives,  or  by  gardens  of  oranges,  or  into  several 
hollow  apartments  among  the  rocks  and  mountains,  that  look  liko 
so  many  natural  greenhouses,  as  being  always  shaded  with  a  great 
variety  of  trees  and  shrubs  that  never  lose  their  verdure."  ^ 

*  Addison's  Works  (Tickell's  edition),  vol.  v.  p.  213. 


Ill]  HIS  TRAVELS.  49 

Though  his  thoughts  during  his  travels  were  largely 
occupied  with  objects  chiefly  interesting  to  his  taste  and 
imagination,  and  though  he  busied  himself  with  such  com- 
positions as  the  Ejnstlefrom  Italy ^  the  Dialogue  on  Med- 
als, and  the  first  four  acts  of  Cato,  he  did  not  forget  that 
his  experience  was  intended  to  qualify  him  for  taking  part 
in  the  affairs  of  State.  And  when  he  reached  Geneva,  iu 
December,  1701,  the  door  to  a  political  career  seemed  to 
be  on  the  point  of  opening.  He  there  learned,  as  Tickell 
informs  us,  that  he  had  been  selected  to  attend  the  army 
under  Prince  Eugene  as  secretary  from  the  King.  He 
accordingly  waited  in  the  city  for  official  confirmation  of 
this  intelligence;  but  his  hopes  were  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. William  HI.  died  in  March,  1702;  Halifax, 
on  whom  Addison's  prospects  chiefly  depended,  was  struck 
off  the  Privy  Council  by  Queen  Anne ;  and  the  travelling 
pension  ceased  with  the  life  of  the  sovereign  who  had 
granted  it.  Henceforth  he  had  to  trust  to  his  own  re- 
sources ;  and  though  the  loss  of  his  pension  does  not  seem 
to  have  compelled  him  at  once  to  turn  homewards,  as  he 
continued  on  his  route  to  Vienna,  yet  an  incident  that 
occurred  towards  the  close  of  his  travels  shows  that  he 
was  prepared  to  eke  out  his  income  by  undertaking  work 
that  would  have  been  naturally  irksome  to  him. 

At  Rotterdam,  on  his  return  towards  England,  he  met 
with  Jacob  Tonson,  the  bookseller,  for  whom,  as  has  been 
said,  he  had  already  done  some  work  as  a  translator. 
Tonson  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Kit-Kat  Club,  and 
in  that  capacity  was  brought  into  frequent  and  intimate 
connection  with  the  Whig  magnates  of  the  day.  Among 
these  was  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  who,  through  his  wife, 
then  high  in  Queen  Anne's  favour,  exercised  considerable  j 
influence  on  the  course  of  affairs.     The  Duke  required  a 


50  ADDISON.  [cuAP. 

tutor  for  his  son,  Lord  Hertford,  and  Tonson  recommend- 
ed Addison.  On  the  Duke's  approval  of  the  recommen- 
dation, the  bookseller  seems  to  have  communicated  with 
Addison,  who  expressed  himself,  in  general  terms,  as  will- 
ing to  undertake  the  charge  of  Lord  Hertford,  but  desired 
to  know  more  particulars  about  his  engagement.  These 
were  furnished  by  the  Duke  in  a  letter  to  Tonson,  and 
they  are  certainly  a  very  curious  illustration  of  the  man- 
ners of  the  period.  "  I  ought,"  says  his  Grace,  "  to  enter 
into  that  affair  more  freely  and  more  plainly,  and  tell  you 
what  I  propose,  and  what  I  hope  he  will  comply  with — 
viz.,  I  desire  he  may  be  more  on  the  account  of  a  com- 
panion in  my  son's  travels  than  as  a  governor,  and  that 
as  such  I  shall  account  him :  my  meaning  is,  that  neither 
lodging,  travelling,  nor  diet  shall  cost  him  sixpence,  and 
over  and  above  that  my  son  shall  present  him  at  the 
year's  end  with  a  hundred  guineas,  as  long  as  he  is  pleased 
to  continue  in  that  service  to  my  son,  by  his  personal  at- 
tendance and  advice,  in  what  he  finds  necessary  during  his 
time  of  travelling." 

To  this  not  very  tempting  proposal  Addison  replied : 
"I  have  lately  received  one  or  two  advantageous  offers  of 
y^  same  nature,  but  as  I  should  be  very  ambitious  of  ex- 
ecuting any  of  your  Grace's  commands,  so  I  can't  think 
of  taking  y®  like  employ  from  any  other  hands.  As  for 
y®  recompense  that  is  proposed  to  me,  I  must  take  the 
liberty  to  assure  your  Grace  that  I  should  not  see  my  ac- 
count in  it,  but  in  y®  hope  that  I  have  to  recommend  my- 
self to  your  Grace's  favour  and  approbation."  This  reply 
proved  highly  offensive  to  the  Duke,  who  seems  to  have 
considered  his  own  offer  a  magnificent  one.  "  Your  letter 
of  the  16th,"  he  writes  to  Tonson,  on  June  22,  1703, 
"  with  one  from  Mr.  Addison,  came  safe  to  me.     You  say 


III.]  HIS  TRAVELS.  51 

he  will  give  me  an  account  of  his  readiness  of  complying 
with  my  proposal.  I  will  set  down  his  own  words,  which 
are  thus :  *  As  for  the  recompense  that  is  proposed  to  me, 
I  must  confess  I  can  by  no  means  see  my  account  in  it,' 
etc.  All  the  other  parts  of  his  letter  are  compliments  to 
me,  which  he  thought  he  was  bound  in  good  breeding  to 
write,  and  as  such  I  have  taken  them,  and  no  otherwise ; 
and  now  I  leave  you  to  judge  how  ready  he  is  to  comply 
with  my  proposal.  Therefore,  I  have  wrote  by  this  first 
post  to  prevent  his  coming  to  England  on  my  account,  and 
have  told  him  plainly  that  I  must  look  for  another,  which 
I  cannot  be  long  a-finding." 

Addison's  principal  biographer.  Miss  Aikin,  expresses 
great  contempt  for  the  niggardliness  of  the  Duke,  and  says 
that,  "Addison  must  often  have  congratulated  himself  in 
the  sequel  on  that  exertion  of  proper  spirit  by  which  he 
had  escaped  from  wasting,  in  an  attendance  little  better 
than  servile,  three  precious  years,  which  he  found  means 
of  employing  so  much  more  to  his  own  honour  and  satis- 
faction, and  to  the  advantage  of  the  public."  Mean  as  the 
Duke's  offer  was,  it  is  nevertheless  plain  that  Addison  re- 
ally intended  to  accept  it,  and,  this  being  so,  he  can  scarce- 
ly be  congratulated  on  having  on  this  occasion  displayed 
his  usual  tact  and  felicity.  Two  courses  appear  to  have 
been  open  to  him.  He  might  either  have  simply  declined 
the  offer  "  as  not  finding  his  account  in  it,"  or  he  might 
have  accepted  it  in  view  of  the  future  advantages  which  he 
hoped  to  derive  from  the  Duke's  "favour  and  approba- 
tion ;"  in  which  case  he  should  have  said  nothing  about 
finding  the  "recompense"  proposed  insufficient.  By  the 
course  that  he  took  he  contrived  to  miss  an  appointment 
which  he  seems  to  have  made  up  his  mind  to  accept,  and 
3* 


52  ADDISON.  [chap.  hi. 

he  offended  an  influential  statesman  whose  favour  he  was 
anxious  to  secure. 

To  his  pecuniary  embarrassments  was  soon  added  do- 
mestic loss.  At  Amsterdam  he  received  news  of  his  fa- 
ther's death,  and  it  may  be  supposed  that  the  private 
business  in  which  he  must  have  been  involved  in  conse- 
quence of  this  event  brought  him  to  England,  where  he 
arrived  some  time  in  the  autumn  of  1703. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HIS   EMPLOYMENT   IN    AFFAIRS    OF    STATE. 

Addison's  fortunes  were  now  at  their  lowest  ebb.  The 
party  from  which  he  had  looked  for  preferment  was  out 
of  office ;  his  chief  political  patron  was  in  particular  dis- 
credit at  Court ;  his  means  were  so  reduced  that  he  was 
forced  to  adopt  a  style  of  living  not  much  more  splendid 
than  that  of  the  poorest  inhabitants  of  Grub  Street.  Yet 
within  three  years  of  his  return  to  England  he  was  pro- 
moted to  be  an  Under-Secretary  of  State — a  post  from 
which  he  mounted  to  one  position  of  honour  after  another 
till  his  final  retirement  from  political  life.  That  he  was 
able  to  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  that  offered  it- 
self was  owing  to  his  own  genius  and  capacity ;  the  op- 
portunity was  the  fruit  of  circumstances  which  had  pro* 
duced  an  entire  revolution  in  the  position  of  English  men 
of  letters. 

Through  the  greater  part  of  Charles  II.'s  reign  the  pro- 
fession of  literature  was  miserably  degraded.  It  is  true 
that  the  King  himself,  a  man  of  wit  and  taste,  was  not 
slow  in  his  appreciation  of  art ;  but  he  was  by  his  charac- 
ter insensible  to  what  was  serious  or  elevated,  and  the 
poetry  of  gallantry,  which  he  preferred,  was  quite  within 
reach  of  the  courtiers  by  whom  he  was  surrounded.  Roch- 
ester, Buckingham,  Sedley,  and  Dorset  are   among  the 


54  ADDISON.  [chap. 

principal  poetical  names  of  the  period ;  all  of  them  being 
well  qualified  to  shine  in  verse,  the  chief  requirements  of 
which  were  a  certain  grace  of  manner,  an  air  of  fashiona- 
ble breeding,  and  a  complete  disregard  of  the  laws  of  de- 
cency. Besides  these  "  songs  by  persons  of  quality,"  the 
principal  entertainment  was  provided  by  the  drama.  But 
the  stage,  seldom  a  lucrative  profession,  was  then  crowd- 
ed with  writers  whose  fertile,  if  not  very  lofty,  invention 
kept  down  the  price  of  plays.  Otway,  the  most  success- 
ful dramatist  of  bis  time,  died  in  a  state  of  indigence,  and 
as  some  say,  almost  of  starvation,  while  playwrights  of  less 
ability,  if  the  house  was  ill-attended  on  the  third  night, 
when  the  poet  received  all  the  profits  of  the  performance, 
were  forced,  as  Oldham  says,  "  to  starve  or  live  in  tatters 
all  the  year." ' 

Periodical  literature,  in  the  shape  of  journals  and  maga- 
zines, had  as  yet  no  existence ;  nor  could  the  satirical  poet 
or  the  pamphleteer  find  his  remuneration  in  controver- 
sial writing,  the  strong  reaction  against  Puritanism  having 
raised  the  monarchy  to  a  position  in  which  it  was  practi- 
cally secure  against  the  assaults  of  all  its  enemies.  The 
author  of  the  most  brilliant  satire  of  the  period,  who  had 
used  all  the  powers  of  a  rich  imagination  to  discredit  the 
Puritan  and  Republican  cause,  was  paid  with  nothing  more 
solid  than  admiration,  and  died  neglected  and  in  want. 

"  The  wretch,  at  summing  up  his  misspent  days, 
Found  nothing  left  but  poverty  and  praise ! 
Of  all  his  gains  by  verse  he  could  not  save 
Enough  to  purchase  flannel  and  a  grave ! 
Keduced  to  want  he  in  due  time  fell  sick, 
Was  fain  to  die,  and  be  interred  on  tick ; 

^  Oldham's  Satire  Dissuading  from  Poetry. 


^^  OP  THP!        ^e 

IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  WlirSt:  ^  ^^  **.  51  T 

And  well  might  bless  the  fever  that  was  senS 
I)  To  rid  him  hence,  and  his  worse  fate  prevent."^ 

In  the  latter  part  of  this  reign,  however,  a  new  com- 
bination of  circumstances  produced  a  great  change  in 
tlie  character  of  English  literature  and  in  the  position  of 
its  professors.  The  struggle  of  Parties  recommenced.^ 
Wearied  with  the  intolerable  rule  of  the  Saints,  the  nation 
had  been  at  first  glad  to  leave  its  newly-restored  King  to 
his  pleasures,  but,  as  the  memories  of  the  Commonwealth 
became  fainter,  the  people  watched  with  a  growing  feel- 
ing of  disgust  the  selfishness  and  extravagance  of  the 
Court,  while  the  scandalous  sale  of  Dunkirk  and  the  sight 
of  the  Dutch  fleet  on  the  Thames  made  them  think  of 
the  patriotic  energies  which  Cromwell  had  succeeded  in 
arousing.  At  the  same  time  the  thinly-disguised  inclina- 
tion of  the  King  to  Popery,  and  the  avowed  opinions  of 
his  brother,  raised  a  general  feeling  of  alarm  for  the 
Protestant  liberties  of  the  nation.  On.  the  other  hand, 
the  Puritans,  taught  moderation  by  adversity^  exhibited 
the  really  religious  side  of  their  character,  and  attracted 
towards  themselves  a  considerable  portion  of  the  aristoc- 
racy, as  well  as  of  the  commercial  and  professional  class- 
es in  the  metropolis — a  combination  of  interests  which 
helped  to  form  the  nucleus  of  the  Whig  party.  The 
clergy  and  the  landed  proprietors,  who  had  been  the  chief 
sufferers  from  Parliamentary  rule,  naturally  adhered  to 
the  Court,  and  were  nicknamed  by  their  opponents  Tories. 
Violent  party  conflicts  ensued,  marked  by  such  incidents 
as  the  Test  Act,  the  Exclusion  Bill,  the  intrigues  of  Mon- 
mouth, the  Popish  Plot,  and  the  trial  and  acquittal  of 
Shaftesbury  on  the  charge  of  high  treason. 

Finding  his  position  no  longer  so  easy  as  at  his  restora- 
^  Oldham's  Satire  Dhmadlng  from  Poetry. 


no  ADDISON.  [chap. 

tion,  Charles  naturally  bethought  him  of  calling  literature 
to  his  assistance.  Tlie  stage,  being  completely  under  his 
control,  seemed  the  readiest  instrument  for  his  purpose ; 
the  order  went  forth,  and  an  astonishing  display  of  mo- 
narchical fervour  in  all  the  chief  dramatists  of  the  time 
' — Otway,  Dryden,  Lee,  and  Crowne  —  was  the  result. 
Shadwell,  who  was  himself  inclined  to  the  Whig  interest, 
laments  the  change : 

"  The  stage,  like  old  Rump  pulpits,  is  become 
The  scene  of  News,  a  furious  Party's  drum." 

But  the  political  influence  of  the  drama  and  the  audience 
to  which  it  appealed  being  necessarily  limited,  the  King 
sought  for  more  powerful  literary  artillery,  and  he  found 
it  in  the  serviceable  genius  of  Dryden,  whose  satirical  and 
controversial  poems  date  from  this  period.  The  wide 
popularity  of  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  written  against 
Monmouth  and  Shaftesbury ;  of  The  Medal,  satirising  the 
acquittal  of  Shaftesbury  ;  of  The  Hind  and  Panther,  com- 
posed to  advance  the  Romanising  projects  of  James  II. ; 
points  to  the  vast  influence  exercised  by  literature  in  the 
party  struggle.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  all  that  Dryden 
had  done  for  the  Royal  cause,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  himself  had  more  than  once  appealed  to  the  poet  for 
assistance,  the  ingratitude  or  levity  of  Charles  was  so  in- 
veterate that  he  let  the  poet's  services  go  almost  unre- 
quited. Dryden,  it  is  true,  held  the  posts  of  Laureat ; 
and  Royal  Historiographer,  but  his  salary  was  always  in 
arrears,  and  the  letter  which  he  addressed  to  Rochester, 
First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  asking  for  six  months'  pay- 
ment of  what  was  due  to  him,  tells  its  own  story. 

James  II.  cared  nothing  for  literature,  and  was  probably 
too  dull  of  apprehension  to  understand  the  incalculable 


17.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  5T 

service  that  Dryden  had  rendered  to  his  cause.  He 
showed  his  appreciation  of  the  Poet-Laureate's  genius  by 
deducting  £100  from  the  salary  which  his  brother  had 
promised  him,  and  by  cutting  off  from  the  emoluments  of 
the  office  the  time-honoured  butt  of  canary ! 

Under  William  III.  the  complexion  of  affairs  again  al- 
tered. The  Court,  in  the  old  sense  of  the  word,  ceased  to 
be  a  paramount  inllncnce  in  literature.  William  III.  de- 
rived his  authority  from  Parliament;  he  knew  that  he 
must  support  it  mainly  by  his  sword  and  his  statesman- 
ship. A  stranger  to  England,  its  manners  and  its  lan- 
guage, he  showed  little  disposition  to  encourage  letters. 
Pope,  indeed,  maliciously  suggests  that  he  had  the  bad 
taste  to  admire  the  poetry  of  Blackmore,  whom  he 
knighted ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  honour  was  con- 
ferred on  the  worthy  Sir  Richard  in  consequence  of  his 
distinction  in  medicine,  and  he  himself  bears  witness  to 
William's  contempt  for  poetry. 

"  Reverse  of  Louis  he,  example  rare, 
Loved  to  deserve  the  praise  he  could  not  bear. 
He  shunned  the  acclamations  of  the  throng, 
And  always  coldly  heard  the  poet's  song. 
Hence  the  great  King  the  Muses  did  neglect. 
And  the  mere  poet  met  with  small  respect."  ^ 

Such  political  verse  as  we  find  in  this  reign  generally 
consists,  like  Halifax's  Epistle  to  Lord  Dorset,  or  Addi- 
son's own  Address  to  King  WUliam,  of  hyperbolical  flat- 
tery. Opposition  was  extinct,  for  both  parties  had  for 
the  moment  united  to  promote  the  Revolution,  and  tho 
only  discordant  notes  amid  the  chorus  of  adulation  pro- 
ceeded from  Jacobite  writers  concealed  in  the  garrets  and 
cellars  of  Grub  Street.  Such  an  atmosphere  was  not  fa- 
^  Blackmore,  The  Kit-Kats. 


58  ADDISON.  [chap. 

vorable  to  the  production  of  literature  of  an  elevated  or 
even  of  a  characteristic  order. 

Addison's  return  to  England  coincided  most  happily 
with  another  remarkable  turn  of  the  tide.  Leaning  de- 
cidedly to  the  Tory  party,  who  were  now  strongly  leavened 
with  the  Jacobite  element,  Anne  had  not  long  succeeded 
to  the  throne  before  she  seized  an  opportunity  for  dis- 
missing the  Whig  Ministry  whom  she  found  in  possession 
of  office.  The  Whigs,  equally  alarmed  at  the  influence 
acquired  by  their  rivals,  and  at  the  danger  which  threat- 
ened the  Protestant  succession,  neglected  no  effort  to 
counterbalance  the  loss  of  their  sovereign's  favour  by 
strengthening  their  credit  with  the  people.  Having  been 
trained  in  a  school  which  had  at  least  qualified  them  to 
appreciate  the  influence  of  style,  the  aristocratic  leaders 
of  the  party  were  well  aware  of  the  advantages  they  would 
derive  by  attracting  to  themselves  the  services  of  the  ablest 
writers  of  the  day.  Hence  they  made  it  their  policy  to 
mingle  with  men  of  letters  on  an  equal  footing,  and  to 
hold  out  to  them  an  expectation  of  a  share  in  the  advan- 
tages to  be  reaped  from  the  overthrow  of  their  rivals. 

The  result  of  this  union  of  forces  was  a  great  increase 
in  the  number  of  literary -political  clubs.  In  its  half- 
aristocratic,  half-democratic  constitution  the  club  was  the 
natural  product  of  enlarged  political  freedom,  and  helped 
to  extend  the  organisation  of  polite  opinion  beyond  the 
narrow  orbit  of  Court  society.  Addison  himself,  in  his 
simple  style,  points  out  the  nature  of  the  fundamental 
principle  of  Association  which  he  observed  in  operation 
all  around  him.  "  When  a  set  of  men  find  themselves 
agree  in  any  particular,  though  never  so  trivial,  they  estab- 
lish themselves  into  a  kind  of  fraternity,  and  meet  onoe  or 
twice  a  week  upon  the  account  of  such  a  fantastic  resem^ 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  59 

blance."  ^  Among  these  societies,  in  the  first  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  the  most  celebrated  was,  perhaps,  the 
Kit  -  Kat  Chib.  It  consisted  of  thirty  -  nine  of  the  lead- 
ing men  of  the  Whig  party ;  and,  though  many  of  these 
were  of  the  highest  rank,  it  is  a  characteristic  fact  that  the 
founder  of  the  club  should  have  been  the  bookseller  Jacob 
Tonson.  It  was  probably  through  his  influence,  joined  to 
that  of  Halifax,  that  Addison  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  society  soon  after  his  return  to  England.  Among  its 
prominent  members  was  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  the  first 
meeting  between  whom  and  Addison,  after  the  correspond- 
ence that  had  passed  between  them,  must  have  been  some- 
what embarrassing.  The  club  assembled  at  one  Christopher 
Catt's,  a  pastry-cook,  who  gave  his  name  both  to  the  society 
and  the  mutton-pies  which  were  its  ordinary  entertainment. 
Each  member  was  compelled  to  select  a  lady  as  his  toast, 
and  the  verses  which  he  composed  in  her  honour  were  en- 
graved on  the  wine-glasses  belonging  to  the  club.  Addi- 
son chose  the  Countess  of  Manchester,  whose  acquaintance 
he  had  made  in  Paris,  and  complimented  her  in  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

"  While  haughty  Gallia's  dames,  that  spread 
O'er  their  pale  cheeks  an  artful  red, 
Beheld  this  beauteous  stranger  there, 
In  native  charms  divinely  fair, 
Confusion  in  their  looks  they  showed, 
And  with  unborrowed  blushes  glowed." 

Circumstances  seemed  now  to  be  conspiring  in  favour 
of  the  Whigs.  The  Tories,  whose  strength  lay  mainly  in 
the  Jacobite  element,  were  jealous  of  Marlborough's  ascen- 
dency over  the  Queen  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  Ducbess  of 
Marlborough,  who  was  rapidly  acquiring  the  chief  place 
^  Spectator,  No.  9. 


GO  ADDISON.  [chap.; 

in  Anne's  affections,  intrigued  in  favoHr  of  tlie  opposite 
faction.  In  spite,  too,  of  her  Tory  predilections,  the 
Queen,  finding  her  throne  menaced  by  the  ambition  of 
Louis  XIV.,  was  compelled  in  self-defence  to  look  for  sup- 
port to  the  party  which  had  most  vigorously  identified 
itself  with  the  principles  of  the  Kevolution.  She  bestowed 
her  unreserved  confidence  on  Marlborough,  and  he,  in  order 
to  counterbalance  the  influence  of  the  Jacobites,  threw  him- 
self into  the  arms  of  the  Whigs.  Being  named  Captain- 
General  in  1704,  he  undertook  the  campaign  which  he 
brought  to  so  glorious  a  conclusion  on  the  2d  of  August 
in  that  year  at  the  battle  of  Blenheim. 

Godolphin,  who,  in  the  absence  of  Marlborough,  occupied 
the  chief  place  in  the  Ministry,  moved  perhaps  by  patriotic 
feeling,  and  no  doubt  also  by  a  sense  of  the  advantage 
which  his  party  would  derive  from  this  great  victory,  was 
anxious  that  it  should  be  commemorated  in  adequate  verse. 
He  accordingly  applied  to  Halifax  as  the  person  to  whom 
the  sacer  votes  required  for  the  occasion  would  probably 
be  known.  Halifax  has  had  the  misfortune  to  have  his 
character  transmitted  to  posterity  by  two  poets  who  hated 
him  either  on  public  or  private  grounds.  Swift  describes 
him  as  the  would  -  be  "  Maecenas  of  the  nation,"  but  in- 
sinuates that  he  neglected  the  wants  of  the  poets  whom 
he  patronised: 

"  Himself  as  rich  as  fifty  Jews, 
Was  easy  though  they  wanted  shoes." 

Pope  also  satirises  the  vanity  and  meanness  of  his  disposi- 
tion in  the  well-known  character  of  Bufo.  Such  portraits, 
though  they  are  justified  to  some  extent  by  evidence  com- 
ing from  other  quarters,  are  not  to  be  too  strictly  examined 
as  if  they  bore  the  stamp  of  historic  truth.     It  is,  at  any 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  61 

rate,  certain  that  Halifax  always  proved  himself  a  warm 
and  zealous  friend  to  Addison,  and  when  Godolphin  ap- 
plied to  him  for  a  poet  to  celebrate  Blenheim,  he  answered 
that,  though  acquainted  with  a  person  who  possessed  every 
qualification  for  the  task,  he  could  not  ask  him  to  under- 
take it.  Being  pressed  for  his  reasons,  he  replied  "that 
while  too  many  fools  and  blockheads  were  maintained  in 
their  pride  and  luxury  at  the  public  expense,  such  men  as 
were  really  an  honour  to  their  age  and  country  were  shame- 
fully suffered  to  languish  in  obscurity ;  that,  for  his  own 
share,  he  would  never  desire  any  gentleman  of  parts  and 
learning  to  employ  his  time  in  celebrating  a  Ministry  who 
had  neither  the  justice  nor  the  generosity  to  make  it  worth 
his  while."  In  answer  to  this  the  Lord  Treasurer  assured 
Halifax  that  any  person  whom  he  might  name  as  equal  to 
the  required  task,  should  have  no  cause  to  repent  of  hav- 
ing rendered  his  assistance ;  whereupon  Halifax  mentioned 
Addison,  but  stipulated  that  all  advances  to  the  latter 
must  come  from  Godolphin  himself.  Accordingly,  Boyle, 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  afterwards  Lord  Carleton, 
was  despatched  on  the  embassy,  and,  if  Pope  is  to  be 
trusted,  found  Addison  lodged  up  three  pair  of  stairs  over 
a  small  shop.  He  opened  to  him  the  subject,  and  informed 
him  that,  in  return  for  the  service  that  was  expected  of 
him,  he  was  instructed  to  offer  him  a  Commissionership  of 
Appeal  in  the  Excise,  as  a  pledge  of  more  considerable  ad- 
vancement in  the  future.  The  fruits  of  this  negotiation 
were  The  Campaign. 

Warton  disposes  of  the  merits  of  The  Campaign  with 
the  cavalier  criticism,  so  often  since  repeated,  that  it  is 
merely  "  a  gazette  in  rhyme."  In  one  sense  the  judgment 
is  no  doubt  just.  As  a  poem.  The  Campaign  shows  neither 
loftiness  of  invention  nor  enthusiasm  of  personal  feeling, 


62  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

and  it  cannot  therefore  be  ranked  with  such  an  ode  as 
Horace's  Qualem  ministrum,  or  with  Pope's  very  fine 
Epistle  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford  after  his  disgrace.  Its  me- 
thodical narrative  style  is  scarcely  misrepresented  by  War- 
ton's  sarcastic  description  of  it;  but  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  this  style  was  adopted  by  Addison  with  delib- 
erate intention.  "  Thus,"  says  he,  in  the  conclusion  of  the 
poem, 

"  Thus  would  I  fain  Britannia's  wars  rehearse 
In  the  smooth  records  of  a  faithful  verse ; 
That,  if  such  numbers  can  o'er  time  prevail, 
May  tell  posterity  the  wondrous  tale. 
When  actions  unadorned  are  faint  and  weak 
Cities  and  countries  must  be  taught  to  speak ; 
Gods  may  descend  in  factions  from  the  skies, 
And  rivers  from  their  oozy  beds  arise ; 
Fiction  may  deck  the  truth  with  spurious  rays, 
And  round  the  hero  cast  a  borrowed  blaze. 
Marlbro's  exploits  appear  divinely  bright, 
And  proudly  shine  in  their  own  native  light ; 
Raised  in  themselves  their  genuine  charms  they  boast. 
And  those  that  paint  them  truest  praise  them  most." 

The  design  here  avowed  is  certainly  not  poetical,  but 
it  is  eminently  business-like  and  extremely  well  adapted  to 
the  end  in  view.  What  Godolphin  wanted  was  a  set  of 
complimentary  verses  on  Marlborough.  Addison,  with  in- 
finite tact,  declares  that  the  highest  compliment  that  can 
be  paid  to  the  hero  is  to  recite  his  actions  in  their  una- 
dorned grandeur.  This  happy  turn  of  flattery  shows  how- 
far  he  had  advanced  in  literary  skill  since  he  wrote  his  ad- 
dress To  the  King,  He  had  then  excused  himself  for  the 
inadequate  celebration  of  William's  deeds  on  the  plea  that, 
great  though  these  might  be,  they  were  too  near  the  poet's 
own  time  to  be  seen  in  proper  focus.     A  thousand  years 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  63 

hence,  he  suggests,  some  Homer  may  be  inspired  by  the 
theme,  "  and  Boyne  be  sung  when  it  has  ceased  to  flow." 
This  could  not  have  been  very  consolatory  to  a  mortal 
craving  for  contemporary  applause,  and  the  apology  of- 
fered in  The  Campaign  for  the  prosaic  treatment  of  the 
subject  is  far  more  dexterous.  Bearing  in  mind  the  fact 
that  it  was  written  to  order,  and  that  the  poet  deliberately 
declined  to  avail  himself  of  the  aid  of  fiction,  we  must  al- 
low that  the  construction  of  the  poem  exhibits  both  art 
and  dignity.  The  allusion  to  the  vast  slaughter  at  Blen- 
heim, in  the  opening  paragraph — 

"  Rivers  of  blood  I  see  and  hills  of  slain, 
An  Iliad  rising  out  of  one  campaign" — 

is  not  very  fortunate ;  but  the  lines  describing  the  ambi- 
tion of  Louis  XIV.  are  weighty  and  dignified,  and  the 
couplet  indicating,  through  the  single  image  of  the  Dan- 
ube, the  vast  extent  of  the  French  encroachments,  shows 
how  thoroughly  Addison  was  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
classical  poetry : 

"  The  rising  Danube  its  long  race  began, 
And  half  its  course  through  the  new  conquests  ran." 

With  equal  felicity  he  describes  the  position  and  interven- 
tion of  England,  seizing  at  the  same  time  the  opportunity 
for  a  panegyric  on  her  free  institutions : 

"  Thrice  happy  Britain,  from  the  kingdoms  rent 
To  sit  the  guardian  of  the  Continent ! 
That  sees  her  bravest  sons  advanced  so  high 
And  flourishing  so  near  her  prince's  eye  ; 
Thy  favourites  grow  not  up  by  fortune's  sport, 
Or  from  the  crimes  and  follies  of  a  court : 
On  the  firm  basis  of  desert  they  rise. 
From  long-tried  faith  and  friendship's  holy  ties, 


64  ADDISON.  [chap. 

Their  sovereign's  well-distinguished  smiles  they  share, 

Her  ornaments  in  peace,  her  strength  in  war ; 

The  nation  thanks  them  with  a  public  voice, 

By  showers  of  blessings  Heaven  approves  their  choice ; 

Envy  itself  is  dumb,  in  wonder  lost, 

And  factions  strive  who  shall  applaud  them  most." 

He  proceeds  in  a  stream  of  calm  and  equal  verse,  enlivened 
by  dexterous  allusions  and  occasional  happy  turns  of  ex- 
pression, to  describe  the  scenery  of  the  Moselle  ;  the  march 
between  the  Maese  and  the  Danube ;  the  heat  to  which  the 
army  was  exposed  ;  the  arrival  on  the  Neckar ;  and  the 
track  of  devastation  left  by  the  French  armies.  The  meet- 
ing* between  Marlborough  and  Eugene  inspires  him  again 
to  raise  his  style  : 

'*  Great  souls  by  instinct  to  each  other  turn. 
Demand  alliance,  and  in  friendship  burn, 
A  sudden  friendship,  while  with  outstretched  rays 
They  meet  each  other  mingling  blaze  with  blaze. 
Polished  in  courts,  and  hardened  in  the  field, 
Renowned  for  conquest,  and  in  council  skilled, 
Their  courage  dwells  not  in  a  troubled  flood 
Of  mounting  spirits  and  fermenting  blood ; 
Lodged  in  the  soul,  with  virtue  overruled. 
Inflamed  by  reason,  and  by  reason  cooled. 
In  hours  of  peace  content  to  be  unknown. 
And  only  in  the  field  of  battle  shown  : 
To  souls  like  these  in  mutual  friendship  joined 
Heaven  dares  entrust  the  cause  of  human  kind." 

The  celebrated  passage  describing  Marlborough's  conduct 
at  Blenheim  is  certainly  the  finest  in  the  poem : 

"  'Twas  then  great  Marlborough's  mighty  soul  was  proved 
That  in  the  shock  of  charging  hosts  unmoved, 
Amidst  confusion,  horror,  and  despair. 
Examined  all  the  dreadful  scenes  of  war ; 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  65 

In  peaceful  thought  the  field  of  death  surveyed, 
To  fainting  squadrons  sent  the  timely  aid, 
Inspired  repulsed  battalions  to  engage, 
And  taught  the  doubtful  battle  where  to  rage. 
So  when  an  angel  by  divine  command 
With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  guilty  land, 
Such  as  of  late  o'er  pale  Britannia  past, 
Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast; 
And  pleased  th'  Almighty's  orders  to  perform. 
Rides  in  the  whirlwind  and  directs  the  storm." 

Johnson  makes  some  cliaracteristic  criticisms  on  this  sim- 
ile, which  indeed,  he  maintains,  is  not  a  simile,  but  "an 
exemplification."  He  says :  "  Marlborough  is  so  like  the 
angel  in  the  poem  that  the  action  of  both  is  almost  the 
same,  and  performed  by  both  in  the  same  manner.  Marl- 
borough '  teaches  the  battle  to  rage  ;'  the  angel  *  directs  the 
storm;'  Marlborough  is  *  unmoved  in  peaceful  thought;' 
the  angel  is  *calm  and  serene;'  Marlborough  stands  *  un- 
moved amid  the  shock  of  hosts ;'  the  angel  rides  *  calm  in 
the  whirlwind.'  The  lines  on  Marlborough  are  just  and 
noble;  but  the  simile  gives  almost  the  same  images  a  sec- 
ond time." 

This  judgment  would  be  unimpeachable  if  the  force  of 
the  simile  lay  solely  in  the  likeness  between  Marlborough 
and  the  angel,  but  it  is  evident  that  equal  stress  is  to  be 
laid  on  the  resemblance  between  the  battle  and  the  storm. 
It  was  Addison's  intention  to  raise  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader  the  noblest  possible  idea  of  composure  and  design 
in  the  midst  of  confusion  :  to  do  this  he  selected  an  angel 
as  the  minister  of  the  divine  purpose,  and  a  storm  as  the 
symbol  of  fnry  and  devastation ;  and,  in  order  to  heighten 
his  effect,  he  recalls  with  true  art  the  violence  of  the  par- 
ticular tempest  which  had  recently  ravaged  the  country. 
Johnson  has  noticed  the  close  similarity  between  the  per- 


66  ADDISON.  [chap. 

sons  of  Marlborough  and  the  angel ;  but  he  has  exagger- 
ated the  resemblance  between  the  actions  in  which  they 
are  severally  engaged. 

The  Campaign  completely  fulfilled  the  purpose  for  which 
it  was  written.  It  strengthened  the  position  of  the  Whig 
Ministry,  and  secured  for  its  author  the  advancement  that 
had  been  promised  him.  Early  in  1706  Addison,  on  the 
recommendation  of  Lord  Godolphin,  was  promoted  from 
the  Commissionership  of  Appeals  in  Excise  to  be  Under- 
Secretary  of  State  to  Sir  Charles  Hedges.  The  latter  was 
one  of  the  few  Tories  who  had  retained  their  position  in 
the  Ministry  since  the  restoration  of  the  Whigs  to  the  fa- 
vour of  their  sovereign,  and  he,  too,  shortly  vanished  from 
the  stage  like  his  more  distinguished  friends,  making  way 
for  the  Earl  of  Sunderland,  a  staunch  Whig,  and  son-in- 
law  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

Addison's  duties  as  Under-Secretary  were  probably  not 
particularly  arduous.  In  1705  he  was  permitted  to  at- 
tend Lord  Halifax  to  the  Court  of  Hanover,  whither  the 
latter  was  sent  to  carry  the  Act  for  the  Naturalisation 
of  the  Electress  Sophia.  The  mission  also  included  Van- 
brugh,  who,  as  Clarencieux  King-at-Arms,  was  charged  to 
invest  the  Elector  with  the  Order  of  the  Garter ;  the  party 
thus  constituted  affording  a  remarkable  illustration  of  the 
influence  exercised  by  literature  over  the  politics  of  the 
period.  Addison  must  have  obtained  during  this  jour- 
ney considerable  insight  into  the  nature  of  England's 
foreign  policy,  as,  besides  establishing  the  closest  re- 
lations with  Hanover,  Halifax  was  also  instructed  to 
form  an  alliance  with  the  United  Provinces  for  securing 
the  succession  of  the  House  of  Brunswick  to  the  English 
throne. 

In  the  meantime  his  imagination  was  not  idle.     After 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATfiT  67 

helping  Steele  in  the  composition  of  his  Tender  Husband, 
which  was  acted  in  IVOS,  he  found  time  for  engaging  in 
a  fresh  literary  enterprise  of  his  own.  The  principles  of 
operatic  music,  which  had  long  been  developed  in  Italy, 
had  been  slow  in  making  their  way  to  this  country.  Their 
introduction  had  been  delayed  partly  by  the  French  prej- 
udices of  Charles  II.,  but  more,  perhaps,  by  the  strong 
insular  tastes  of  the  people,  and  by  the  vigorous  forms  of 
the  native  drama.  What  the  untutored  English  audience 
liked  best  to  hear  was  a  well-marked  tune,  sung  in  a  fine 
natural  way :  the  kind  of  music  which  was  in  vogue  on 
the  stage  till  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  sim- 
ply the  regular  drama  interspersed  with  airs ;  recitative 
was  unknown  ;  and  there  was  no  attempt  to  cultivate  the 
voice  according  to  the  methods  practised  in  the  Italian 
schools.  But  with  the  increase  of  wealth  and  travel  more 
exacting  tastes  began  to  prevail ;  Italian  singers  appeared 
on  the  stage  and  exhibited  to  the  audience  capacities  of 
voice  of  which  they  had  hitherto  had  no  experience.  In 
1705  was  acted  at  the  Hay  market  Arsinoe^  the  first  opera 
constructed  in  England  on  avowedly  Italian  principles. 
The  words  were  still  in  English,  but  the  dialogue  was 
throughout  in  recitative.  The  composer  was  Thomas  Clay- 
ton, who,  though  a  man  entirely  devoid  of  genius,  had 
travelled  in  Italy,  and  was  eager  to  turn  to  account  the 
experience  which  he  had  acquired.  In  spite  of  its  bad- 
ness Arsinoe  greatly  impressed  the  public  taste;  and  it 
was  soon  followed  by  Camilla,  a  version  of  an  opera  by 
Bononcini,  portions  of  which  were  sung  in  Italian,  and 
portions  in  English — an  absurdity  on  which  Addison  just- 
ly comments  in  a  number  of  the  Spectator,  His  remarks 
on  the  consequences  of  translating  the  Italian  operas  are 
equally  humorous  and  just. 
4 


68  ADDISON.  [chap. 

"  As  there  was  no  great  danger,"  says  he,  "  of  hurting  the  sense 
of  these  extraordinary  pieces,  our  authors  would  often  make  words 
of  their  own  which  were  entirely  foreign  to  the  meaning  of  the  pas- 
sages they  pretended  to  translate ;  their  chief  care  being  to  make 
the  numbers  of  the  English  verse  answer  to  those  of  the  Italian,  that 
both  of  them  might  go  to  the  same  tune.     Thus  the  famous  song  in 

Camilla, 

'  Barbara  si  t'intendo,*  etc. 

•  Barbarous  woman,  yes,  I  know  your  meaning," 

which  expresses  the  resentment  of  an  angry  lover,  was  translated 
into  that  English  lamentation, 

'  Frail  are  a  lover's  hopes,'  etc. 

And  it  was  pleasant  enough  to  see  the  most  refined  persons  of  the 
British  nation  dying  away  and  languishing  to  notes  that  were  filled 
with  the  spirit  of  rage  and  indignation.  It  happened  also  very  fre- 
quently where  the  sense  was  rightly  translated ;  the  necessary  trans- 
position of  words,  which  were  drawn  out  of  the  phrase  of  one  tongue 
into  that  of  another,  made  the  music  appear  very  absurd  in  one 
tongue  that  was  very  natural  in  the  other.  I  remember  an  Italian 
verse  that  ran  thus,  word  for  word  ; 

*  And  turned  my  rage  into  pity,* 

which  the  English,  for  rhyme's  sake,  translated, 

'  And  into  pity  turned  my  rage.' 

By  this  means  the  soft  notes  that  were  adapted  to  pity  in  the  Ital- 
ian fell  upon  the  word  *  rage '  in  the  English ;  and  the  angry  sounds 
that  were  turned  to  rage  in  the  original  were  made  to  express  pity 
in  the  translation.  It  oftentimes  happened  likewise  that  the  finest 
notes  in  the  air  fell  upon  the  most  insignificant  word  in  the  sentence. 
I  have  known  the  word  '  and '  pursued  through  the  whole  gamut ; 
have  been  entertained  with  many  a  melodious  *  the  ;'  and  have  heard 
the  most  beautiful  graces,  quavers,  and  divisions  bestowed  upon 
'  then,'  *  for,'  and  *  from,'  to  the  eternal  honour  of  our  English  par- 
ticles." 1 

Perceiving  these  radical  defects,  Addison  seems  to  have 
been  ambitious  of  showing  by  example  how  they  might 
'  Spectator,  No.  18. 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  69 

be  remedied.  "  The  great  success  this  opera  {Ao-sinoe) 
raet  with  produced/'  says  he,  "  some  attempts  of  form- 
ing pieces  upon  Italian  plans,  which  should  give  a  more 
natural  and  reasonable  entertainment  than  what  can  be 
met  with  in  the  elaborate  trifles  of  that  nation.  This 
alarmed  the  poetasters  and  fiddlers  of  the  town,  who  were 
used  to  deal  in  a  more  ordinary  kind  cf  ware,  and  there- 
fore laid  down  an  established  rule,  which  is  received  as 
such  to  this  day,  *  That  nothing  is  capable  of  being  well 
set  to  music  that  is  not  nonsense.'"^  The  allusion  to 
the  failure  of  the  writer's  own  opera  of  Rosamond  is  un- 
mistakable. The  piece  was  performed  on  the  2d  of  April, 
1V06,  but  was  coldly  received,  and  after  two  or  three  rep- 
resentations was  withdrawn. 

The  reasons  which  the  Spectator  assigns  for  the  catas- 
trophe betray  rather  the  self-love  of  the  author  than  the 
clear  perception  of  the  critic.  Bosamond  failed  because, 
in  the  first  place,  it  was  very  bad  as  a  musical  composi- 
tion. Misled  by  the  favour  with  which  Arsinoe  was  re- 
ceived, Addison  seems  to  have  regarded  Clayton  as  a  great 
musician,  and  he  put  his  poem  into  the  hands  of  the  lat- 
ter, thinking  that  his  score  would  be  as  superior  to  that 
of  Arisinoe  as  his  own  poetry  was  to  the  words  of  that 
opera.  Clayton,  however,  had  no  genius,  and  only  suc- 
ceeded in  producing  what  Sir  John  Hawkins,  quoting  with 
approbation  the  words  of  another  critic,  calls  "  a  confused 
chaos  of  music,  the  only  merit  of  which  is  its  shortness."^ 

But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  in  any  case  the  most 
skilful  composer  could  have  produced  music  of  a  high 
order  adapted  to  the  poetry  of  Rosamond,  The  play  is 
neither  a  tragedy,  a  comedy,  nor  a  melodrama.     It  seems 

-     *  Spectator^  No.  18. 

2  Sir  John  Hawkins'  History  of  Music,  vol.  v.  p.  137. 


10  ADDISON.  [chap. 

that  Eleanor  did  not  really  poison  Fair  Kosamond,  but 
only  administered  to  her  a  sleeping  potion,  and,  as  she 
takes  care  to  exphiin  to  the  King, 

"  The  bowl  with  drowsy  juices  filled, 
From  cold  Egyptian  drugs  distilled, 
In  borrowed  death  has  closed  her  eyes." 

Tliis  information  proves  highly  satisfactory  to  the  King, 
not  only  because  he  is  gratified  to  find  that  Eosamond  is 
not  dead,  but  also  because,  even  before  discovering  her 
supposed  dead  body,  he  had  resolved,  in  consequence  of 
a  dream  sent  to  him  by  his  guardian  angel,  to  terminate 
the  relations  existing  between  them.  The  Queen  and  he 
accordingly  arrange,  in  a  business-like  manner,  that  Rosa- 
mond shall  be  quietly  removed  in  her  trance  to  a  nunnery; 
a  reconciliation  is  then  effected  between  the  husband  and 
wife,  who,  as  we  are  led  to  suppose,  live  happily  ever  after. 
The  main  motive  of  the  opera  in  Addison's  mind  ap- 
pears to  have  been  the  desire  of  complimenting  the  Marl- 
borough family.  It  is  dedicated  to  the  Duchess  ;  the  war- 
like character  of  Henry  naturally  recalls  the  prowess  of 
the  great  modern  captain  ;  and  the  King  is  consoled  by 
his  guardian  angel  for  the  loss  of  Fair  Rosamond  with  a 
vision  of  the  future  glories  of  Blenheim : 

"  To  calm  thy  grief  and  lull  thy  cares, 

Look  up  and  see 
What,  after  long  revolving  years, 

Thy  bower  shall  be  ! 
When  time  its  beauties  shall  deface, 
And  only  with  its  ruins  grace 
The  future  prospect  of  the  place ! 
Behold  the  glorious  pile  ascending, 
Columns  swelling,  arches  bending. 
Domes  in  awful  pomp  arising. 
Art  in  curious  strokes  surprising, 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  11 

Foes  in  figured  fights  contending, 
Behold  the  glorious  pile  ascending." 

This  is  graceful  enough,  but  it  scarcely  offers  material 
for  music  of  a  serious  kind.  Nor  can  the  Court  have  been 
greatly  impressed  by  the  compliment  paid  to  its  morality, 
as  contrasted  with  that  of  Charles  II.,  conveyed  as  it  was 
by  the  mouth  of  Grideline,  one  of  the  comic  characters  in 
the  piece — 

"  Since  conjugal  passion 
Is  come  into  fashion, 
And  marriage  so  blest  on  the  throne  is, 
Like  a  Venus  I'll  shine, 
Be  fond  and  be  fine, 
And  Sir  Trusty  shall  be  my  Adonis." 

The  ill  success  of  Rosamond  confirmed  Addison's  dis- 
like to  the  Italian  opera,  which  he  displayed  both  in  his 
grave  and  humorous  papers  on  the  subject  in  the  Specta- 
tor, The  disquisition  upon  the  various  actors  of  the  lion 
in  Hydaspes  is  one  of  his  happiest  inspirations ;  but  his 
serious  criticisms  are,  as  a  rule,  only  just  in  so  far  as  they 
are  directed  against  the  dramatic  absurdities  of  the  Ital- 
ian opera.  As  to  his  technical  qualifications  as  a  critic  of 
music,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  cite  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Bur- 
ney :  "  To  judges  of  music  nothing  more  need  be  said  of 
Mr.  Addison's  abilities  to  decide  concerning  the  compara- 
tive degrees  of  national  excellence  in  the  art,  and  the  merit 
of  particular  masters,  than  his  predilection  for  the  produc- 
tions of  Clayton,  and  insensibility  to  the  force  and  origi- 
nality of  Handel's  compositions  in  Rinaldo.''''  * 

In  December,  1708,  the  Earl  of  Sunderland  was  displaced 
to  make  room  for  the  Tory  Lord  Dartmouth,  and  Addison, 
as  Under-Secretary,  following  the  fortunes  of  his  superior, 

*  Burney's  History  of  Miisic^  vol.  iv.  p.  203. 


n  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

found  himself  again  without  employment.  Fortunately 
for  liim  the  Earl  of  Wharton  was  almost  immediately 
afterwards  made  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  offered 
him  the  lucrative  post  of  Secretary.  The  Earl,  who  was 
subsequently  created  a  Marquis,  was  the  father  of  the 
famous  Duke  satirised  in  Pope's  first  Moral  JEssay ;  he 
was  in  every  respect  the  opposite  of  Addison — a  vehement 
Republican,  a  sceptic,  unprincipled  in  his  morals,  venal  in 
his  methods  of  Government.  He  was  nevertheless  a  man 
of  the  finest  talents,  and  seems  to  have  possessed  the 
power  of  gaining  personal  ascendency  over  his  companions 
by  a  profound  knowledge  of  character.  An  acquaintance 
with  Addison,  doubtless  commencing  at  the  Kit-Kat  Club, 
of  which  both  were  members,  had  convinced  him  that  the 
latter  had  eminent  qualifications  for  the  task,  which  the 
Secretary's  post  would  involve,  of  dealing  with  men  of  very 
various  conditions.  Of  the  feelings  with  which  Addison 
on  his  side  regarded  the  Earl  we  have  no  record.  "It  is 
reasonable  to  suppose,"  says  Johnson,  "  that  he  counter- 
acted, as  far  as  he  was  able,  the  malignant  and  blasting  in- 
fluence of  the  Lieutenant ;  and  that,  at  least,  by  his  inter- 
vention some  good  was  done  and  some  mischief  prevented." 
Not  a  shadow  of  an  imputation,  at  any  rate,  rests  upon  his 
own  conduct  as  Secretary.  lie  appears  to  have  acted 
strictly  on  that  conception  of  public  duty  which  he  defines 
in  one  of  his  papers  in  the  Spectator,  Speaking  of  the 
marks  of  a  corrupt  official,  "  Such  an  one,"  he  declares,  "  is 
the  man  who,  upon  any  pretence  whatsoever,  receives  more 
than  what  is  the  stated  and  unquestioned  fee  of  his  office. 
Gratifications,  tokens  of  thankfulness,  despatch  money,  and 
the  like  specious  terms,  are  the  pretences  under  which  cor- 
ruption very  frequently  shelters  itself.  An  honest  man 
will,  however,  look  on  all  these  methods  as  unjustifiable, 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  IS 

and  will  enjoy  himself  better  in  a  moderate  fortune,  that  is 
gained  with  honour  and  reputation,  than  in  an  overgrown 
estate  that  is  cankered  with  the  acquisitions  of  rapine  and 
exaction.  Were  all  our  offices  discharged  with  such  an 
inflexible  integrity,  we  should  not  see  men  in  all  ages,  who 
grow  up  to  exorbitant  wealth,  with  the  abilities  which  are 
to  be  met  with  in  an  ordinary  mechanic."  *  llis  friends 
perhaps  considered  that  his  impartialit}'  was  somewhat 
overstrained,  since  he  always  declined  to  remit  the  custom- 
ary fees  in  their  favour.  "  For,"  said  he, "  I  may  have 
forty  friends,  whose  fees  may  be  two  guineas  a-piece ;  then 
I  lose  eighty  guineas,  and  my  friends  gain  but  two  a-piece." 
He  took  with  him  as  his  own  Secretary,  Eustace  Bud- 
gell,  who  was  related  to  him,  and  for  whom  he  seems  to 
have  felt  a  warm  affection.  Budgell  was  a  man  of  consid- 
erable literary  ability,  and  was  the  writer  of  the  various 
papers  in  the  Spectator  signed  "X,"  some  of  which  suc- 
ceed happily  in  imitating  x\ddison's  style.  While  he  Avas 
under  his  friend's  guidance  his  career  was  fairly  successful, 
but  his  temper  was  violent,  and  when,  at  a  later  period  of 
his  life,  he  served  in  Ireland  under  a  new  Lieutenant  and 
another  Secretary,  he  became  involved  in  disputes  which 
led  to  his  dismissal.  A  furious  pamphlet  against  the  Lord- 
Lieutenant,  the  Duke  of  Bolton,  published  by  him  in  spite 
of  Addison's  remonstrances,  only  complicated  his  position, 
and  from  this  period  his  fortunes  steadily  declined.  He 
lost  largely  in  the  South  Sea  Scheme ;  spent  considerable 
suras  in  a  vain  endeavour  to  obtain  a  seat  in  Parliament ; 
and  at  last  came  under  the  influence  of  his  kinsman,  Tin- 
dal,  the  well-known  deist,  whose  will  he  is  accused  of  hav- 
ing falsified.  With  his  usual  infelicity  he  happened  to 
rouse  the  resentment  of  Pope,  and  was  treated  in  consc- 
^  Spectator^  No.  469. 


H  ADDISON.  [chap. 

quence  to  one  of  the  deadly  couplets  with  which  that 
great  poet  was  in  the  habit  of  repaying  real  or  supposed 
injuries : 

"  Let  Budgell  charge  low  Grub  Street  on  his  quill, 
And  write  w4iate'er  he  pleased — except  his  will." 

The  lines  were  memorable,  and  were  doubtless  often  quot- 
ed, and  the  wretched  man  finding  his  life  insupportable, 
ended  it  by  drowning  himself  in  the  Thames. 

During  his  residence  in  Ireland  Addison  firmly  ce- 
mented his  friendship  with  Swift,  whose  acquaintance  he 
had  probably  made  after  The  Campaign  had  given  him 
a  leading  position  in  the  Whig  party,  on  the  side  of 
which  the  sympathies  of  both  were  then  enlisted.  Swift's 
admiration  for  Addison  was  warm  and  generous.  When 
the  latter  was  on  the  point  of  embarking  on  his  new 
duties,  Swift  wrote  to  a  common  friend,  Colonel  Hunter, 
"  Mr.  Addison  is  hurrying  away  for  Ireland,  and  I  pray 
too  much  business  may  not  spoil  le  j^lus  honnete  homme  du 
mondey  To  Archbishop  King  he  wrote  :  "  Mr.  Addison, 
who  goes  over  our  first  secretary,  is  a  most  excellent 
person,  and  being  my  intimate  friend  I  shall  use  all  my 
credit  to  set  him  right  in  his  notions  of  persons  and 
things."  Addison's  duties  took  him  occasionally  to  Eng- 
land, and  during  one  of  his  visits  Swift  writes  to  him 
from  Ireland:  "I  am  convinced  that  whatever  Govern- 
ment come  over  you  will  find  all  marks  of  kindness  from 
any  parliament  here  with  respect  to  your  employment, 
the  Tories  contending  with  the  Whigs  Avhich  should 
speak  best  of  you.  In  short,  if  you  will  come  over  again 
when  you  are  at  leisure  we  will  raise  an  army  and  make 
you  King  of  Ireland.  Can  you  think  so  meanly  of  a 
kingdom  as  not  to  be  pleased  that  every  creature  in  it, 


IV.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  75 

who  hath  one  grain  of  worth,  has  a  veneration  for  you  ?" 
In  his  Journal  to  Stella  he  says,  under  date  of  October 
12,  1710:  "Mr.  Addison's  election  has  passed  easy  and 
undisputed ;  and  I  believe  if  he  had  a  mind  to  be  chosen 
king  he  would  hardly  be  refused."  On  his  side  Addison's 
feelings  were  equally  warm.  lie  presented  Swift  with 
a  copy  of  his  RemarJcs  on  Several  Parts  of  Italy,  inscrib- 
ing it — "  To  the  most  agreeable  companion,  the  truest 
friend,  and  the  greatest  genius  of  his  age." 

This  friendship,  founded  on  mutual  respect,  was  des- 
tined to  be  impaired  by  political  differences.  In  1710 
the  credit  of  the  Whig  Ministry  had  been  greatly  under- 
mined by  the  combined  craft  of  Harley  and  Mrs.  Masham, 
and  Swift,  who  was  anxious  as  to  his  position,  on  coming 
over  to  England  to  press  his  claims  on  Somers  and 
Halifax,  found  that  they  were  unable  to  help  him.  lie 
appears  to  have  considered  that  their  want  of  power 
proceeded  from  want  of  will ;  at  any  rate,  he  made  ad- 
vances to  Harley,  which  were  of  course  gladly  received. 
The  Ministry  were  at  this  time  being  hard  pressed  by 
the  Examiner,  under  the  conduct  of  Prior,  and  at  their 
instance  Addison  started  the  Whig  Examiner  in  their 
defence.  Though  this  paper  was  written  effectively  and 
with  admirable  temper,  party  polemics  were  little  to  the 
taste  of  its  author,  and,  after  five  numbers,  it  ceased  to 
exist  on  the  8th  of  October.  Swift,  now  eager  for  the 
triumph  of  the  Tories,  expresses  his  delight  to  Stella 
by  informing  her,  in  the  words  of  a  Tory  song,  that  "it 
was  down  among  the  dead  men."  He  himself  wrote  the 
first  of  his  Examiners  on  the  2d  of  the  following  Novem- 
ber, and  the  crushing  blows  with  which  he  followed  it 
up  did  much  to  hasten  the  downfall  of  the  Ministry. 
As  was  natural,  Addison  was  somewhat  displeased  at  his 
4* 


'76  ADDISOK  [chap. 

friend's  defection.  In  December  Swift  writes  to  Stella, 
"  Mr.  Addison  and  I  are  as  different  as  black  and  white, 
and  I  believe  our  friendship  will  go  off  by  this  d busi- 
ness of  party.  He  cannot  bear  seeing  me  fall  in  so  with 
the  Ministry ;  but  I  love  him  still  as  much  as  ever,  though 
Yfe  seldom  meet."  In  January,  17X0-11,  he  says:  "I 
called  at  the  coffee-house,  where  I  had  not  been  in  a  week, 
and  talked  coldly  awhile  with  Mr.  Addison  ;  all  our  friend- 
ship and  dearness  are  off;  we  are  civil  acquaintance,  talk 
words,  of  course,  of  when  we  shall  meet,  and  that's  all. 
Is  it  not  odd  ?''  Many  similar  entries  follow ;  but  on 
June  26,  1711,  the  record  is :  *'  Mr.  Addison  and  I  talked 
as  usual,  and  as  if  we  had  seen  one  another  yesterday." 
And  on  September  14,  he  observes:  "This  evening  I  met 
Addison  and  pastoral  Philips  in  the  Park,  and  supped 
with  them  in  Addison's  lodgings.  We  were  very  good 
company,  and  I  yet  know  no  man  half  so  agreeable  to  me 
as  he  is.     I  sat  with  them  till  twelve." 

It  was  perhaps  through  the  influence  of  Swift,  who 
spoke  warmly  with  the  Tory  Ministry  on  behalf  of  Addi- 
son, that  the  latter,  on  the  downfall  of  the  Whigs  in  the 
autumn  of  1710,  was  for  some  time  suffered  to  retain  the 
Keepership  of  the  Records  in  Bermingham's  Tower,  an 
Irish  place  which  had  been  bestowed  upon  him  by  the 
Queen  as  a  special  mark  of  the  esteem  with  which  she 
regarded  him,  and  which  appears  to  have  been  worth 
£400  a  year.*  In  other  respects  his  fortunes  were  greatly 
altered  by  the  change  of  Ministry.  "  I  have  within  this 
twelvemonth,"  he  writes  to  Wortley  on  the  21st  of  July, 
1711,  "lost  a  place  of  £2000  per  ann.,  an  estate  in  the 
Indies  worth  £14,000,  and,  what  is  worse  than   all  the 

^  Fourth  Drapier's  Letter. 


IF.]  HIS  EMPLOYMENT  IN  AFFAIRS  OF  STATE.  77 

rest,  ray  mistress.*  Hear  this  and  wonder  at  my  philoso- 
phy 1  I  find  they  are  going  to  take  away  my  Irish  place 
from  me  too;  to  which  I  must  add  that  I  have  just  re- 
signed my  fellowship,  and  that  stocks  sink  every  day." 
In  spite  of  these  losses  his  circumstances  were  materially 
different  from  those  in  which  he  found  himself  after  the 
fall  of  the  previous  Whig  Ministry  in  1702.  Before  the 
close  of  the  year  1711  he  was  able  to  buy  the  estate  of 
Bilton,  near  Rugby,  for  £10,000.  Part  of  the  purchase 
money  was  probably  provided  from  what  he  had  saved 
while  he  was  Irish  Secretary,  and  had  invested  in  the 
funds ;  and  part  was,  no  doubt,  made  up  from  the  profits 
of  the  Tatler  and  the  Spectator.  Miss  Aikin  says  that 
a  portion  was  advanced  by  his  brother  Gulston ;  but  this 
seems  to  be  an  error.  Two  years  before,  the  Governor  of 
E'ort  St.  George  had  died,  leaving  him  his  executor  and 
residuary  legatee.  This  is  no  doubt  "the  estate  in  the 
Indies "  to  which  he  refers  in  his  letter  to  Wortley,  but 
he  had  as  yet  derived  no  benefit  from  it.  His  brother 
had  left  his  affairs  in  great  confusion ;  the  trustees  were 
careless  or  dishonest ;  and  though  about  £600  was  remitted 
to  him  in  the  shape  of  diamonds  in  1713,  the  liquidation 
was  not  complete  till  1716,  when  only  a  small  moiety  of 
the  sum  bequeathed  to  him  came  into  his  hands.^ 

*  Who  the  "  mistress  "  was  cannot  be  certainly  ascertained.    See, 
however,  p.  146. 
»  Egerton  MSS.,  British  Museum  (1972). 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR. 

The  career  of  Addison,  as  described  in  the  preceding 
chapters,  has  exemplified  the  great  change  effected  in  the 
position  of  men  of  letters  in  England  by  the  Restoration 
and  the  Revolution ;  it  is  now  time  to  exhibit  him  in  his 
most  characteristic  light,  and  to  show  the  remarkable  scr- 
.  /  vice  the  eighteenth  century  essayists  performed  for  Effg- 

I     lish  society  in  creating  an  organised  public  opinion.     It 
is  difficult  for  ourselves,  who  look  on  the  action  of  the 
periodical  press  as  part  of  the  regular  machinery  of  life, 
to  appreciate  the  magnitude  of  the  task  accomplished  by 
Addison  and  Steele  in  the  pages  of  the  Tatler  and  Spec- 
tator.    Every  day,  week,  month,  and  quarter  now  sees  the 
issue  of  a  vast  mimber  of  journals  and  magazines  intended 
to  form  the  opinion  of  every  order  and  section  of  society ; 
j    but  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne  the  only  centres  of  soci- 
I    ety  that  existed  were  the  Court,  with  the  aristocracy  that 
'    revolved  about   it,  and  the   clubs   and   coffee-houses,  in 
'     which  the  commercial  and  professional  classes  met  to  dis- 
cuss matters  of  general   interest.     The  Tatler  and  Spec-t 
tator  were  the  first  organs  in  which  an  attempt  was  made] 
to  give  form  and  consistency  to  the  opinion  arising  out^'^ 
of  this  social  contact.     But  we  should  form  a  very  erro- 
neous idea  of  the  character  of  these  publications  if  we 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  '79 

regarded  them  as  the  sudden  productions  of  individual 
genius,  written  in  satisfaction  of  a  mere  temporary  taste. 
Like  all  masterpieces  in  art  and  literature,  they  mark  the 
final  stage  of  a  long  and  painful  journey,  and  the  merit 
of  their  inventors  consists  largely  in  the  judgment  with 
which  they  profited  by  the  experience  of  many  predeces-* 
sors. 

The  first  newspaper  published  in  Europe  was  the  Gaz- 
zetta  of  Venice,  which  was  written  in  manuscript,  and  read 
aloud  at  certain  places  in  the  city,  to  supply  information 
to  the  people  during  the  war  with  the  Turks  in  1536. 
In  England  it  was  not  till  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  that  the 
increased  facilities  of  communication  and  the  growth  of 
wealth  caused  the  purveyance  of  news  to  become  a  profit- 
able employment.  Towards  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury newsmongers  began  to  issue  little  ^pamphlets  report- 
ing extraordinary  intelligence,  but  not  issued  at  regular 
periods.  The  titles  of  tfcese  publications,  which  are  all 
of  them  that  survive,  show  that  the  arts  witR  which  the 
framers  of  the  placards  of  our  own  newspapers  endeavour 
to  attract  attention  are  of  venerable  antiquity  :  "  Wonder- 
ful and  Strange  rrewes  out  of  Suffolke  and  Essex,  where 
it  rained  wheat  the  space  of  six  or  seven  miles"  (1583); 
"Lamentable  newes  out  of  Monmouthshire,  containinge 
the  wonderfull  and  fearf ull  accounts  of  the  great  overflow- 
ing of  the  waters  in  the  said  countrye"  (1607).^ 

In  1622  one  Nathaniel  Butter  began  to  publish  a  news- 
paper bearing  a  fixed  title  and  appearing  at  stated  inter- 
vals. It  was  called  the  Weekly  Newes  from  Italy  and 
Germanie^  etc.,  and  was  said  to  be  printed  for  Mercurius 
Britannicus.  This  novelty  provided  much  food  for  mer- 
riment to  the  poets,  and  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Staple  of  News 
*  Andrews'  History  of  British  JoiirnaUsm. 


80  ADDISON.  [chap. 

satirises  Butter,  under  the  name  of  Nathaniel,  in  a  pas- 
sage which  the  curious  reader  will  do  well  to  consult,  as 
it  shows  the  low  estimation  in  which  newspapers  were 
then  held.* 

Though  it  might  appear  from  Jonson's  dialogue  that 
the  newspapers  of  that  day  contained  many  items  of  do- 
mestic intelligence,  such  was  scarcely  the  case.  Butter  and 
his  contemporaries,  as  was  natural  to  men  who  confined 
themselves  to  the  publication  of  news  without  attempting 
to  form  opinion,  obtained  their  materials  almost  entirely 
from  abroad,  whereby  they  at  once  aroused  more  vividly 
the  imagination  of  their  readers,  and  doubtless  gave  more 
scope  to  their  own  invention.  Besides,  they  were  not  at 
liberty  to  retail  home  news  of  that  political  kind  which 
would  have  been  of  the  greatest  interest  to  the  public. 
For  a  long  time  the  evanescent  character  of  the  newspaper 
allowed  it  to  escape  the  attention  of  the  licenser,  but  the 
growing  demand  for  this  sort  of  reading  at  last  brought  it 
under  supervision,  and  so  strict  was  the  control  exercised 
over  even  the  reports  of  foreign  intelligence  that  its  week- 
ly appearance  w^as  frequently  interrupted. 

In  1641,  however,  the  Star-chamber  was  abolished,  and 
the  heated  political  atmosphere  of  the  times  generated  a 
new  species  of  journal,  in  which  we  find  the  first  attempt 
to  influence  opinion  through  the  periodical  press.  This 
was  the  newspaper  known  under  the  generic  title  of  Mer- 
cury. Many  weekly  publications  of  this  name  appeared 
during  the  Civil  Wars  on  the  side  of  both  King  and  Par- 
liament, Mercurius  Anlicus  being  the  representative  organ 
of  the  Koyalist  cause,  and  Mercurius  Pragmaticus  and  Mer- 
curius Politicus  of  the  Republicans.  Party  animosities 
were  thus  kept  alive,  and  proved  so  inconvenient  to  the 
*  Staple  of  News^  Act  I.  Scene  2. 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  81 

Government  that  the  Parliament  interfered  to  curtail  the 
liberty  of  the  press.  In  1647  an  ordinance  passed  the 
House  of  Lords,  prohibiting  any  person  from  "making, 
writing,  printing,  selling,  publishing,  or  uttering,  or  caus- 
ing to  be  made,  any  book,  sheet,  or  sheets  of  news  what- 
soever, except  the  same  be  licensed  by  both  or  either  House 
of  Parliament,  with  the  name  of  the  author,  printer,  and 
licenser  affixed."  In  spite  of  this  prohibition,  which  was 
renewed  by  Act  of  Parliament  in  1662,  many  unlicensed 
periodicals  continued  to  appear,  till  in  1663  the  Govern- 
ment, finding  their  repressive  measures  insufficient,  re- 
solved to  grapple  with  the  difficulty  by  monopolising  the 
right  to  publish  news. 

The  author  of  this  new  project  was  the  well-known 
Roger  L'Estrange,  who  in  1663  obtained  a  patent  assign- 
ing to  him  "all  the  sole  privilege  of  writing,  printing,  and 
publishing  all  Narratives,  Advertisements,  Mercuries,  In- 
telligencers, Diurnals,  and  other  books  of  public  intelli- 
gence." L'Estrange's  journal  was  called  the  Public  Intelli- 
gencer; it  was  published  once  a  week,  and  in  its  form  was 
a  rude  anticipation  of  the  modern  newspaper,  containing 
as  it  did  an  obituary,  reports  of  the  proceedings  in  Parlia- 
ment and  in  the  Court  of  Claims,  a  list  of  the  circuits  of 
the  judges,  of  sheriffs.  Lent  preachers,  etc.  After  being 
continued  for  two  years  it  gave  place  first,  in  1665,  to  the 
Oxford  Gazette,  published  at  Oxford,  whither  the  Court 
had  retired  during  the  plague;  and  in  1666  to  the  London 
Gazette,  which  was  under  the  immediate  control  of  an 
Under-Secretary  of  State.  The  office  of  Gazetteer  became 
henceforth  a  regular  ministerial  appointment,  and  was 
*  viewed  with  different  eyes  according  as  men  were  affected 
towards  the  Government.  Steele,  who  held  it,  says  of  it: 
"My  next  appearance  as  a  writer  was  in  the  quality  of  the 


82  ADDISON.  [chap. 

lowest  Minister  of  State — to  wit,  in  the  office  of  Gazetteer; 
where  I  worked  faithfully  according  to  order,  without  ever 
erring  against  the  rule  observed  by  all  Ministers,  to  keep 
that  paper  very  innocent  and  very  insipid."  Pope,  on  the 
other  hand,  who  regarded  it  as  an  organ  published  to  in- 
fluence opinion  in  favour  of  the  Government,  is  constant 
in  his  attacks  upon  it,  and  has  immortalised  it  in  the  mem- 
orable lines  in  the  Dunciad  beginning,  "  Next  plunged  a 
feeble  but  a  desperate  pack,"  etc. 

In  1679  the  Licensing  Act  passed  in  1662  expired,  and 
the  Parliament  declined  to  renew  it.  The  Court  was  thus 
left  without  protection  against  the  expression  of  public 
opinion,  which  was  daily  becoming  more  bold  and  out- 
spoken. In  his  extremity  the  King  fell  back  on  the  ser- 
vility of  the  judges,  and,  having  procured  from  them  an 
opinion  that  the  publishing  of  any  printed  matter  without 
license  was  contrary  to  the  common  law,  he  issued  his  fa- 
mous Proclamation  (in  1680)  "to  prohibit  and  forbid  all 
persons  whatsoever  to  print  or  publish  any  news,  book,  or 
pamphlets  of  news,  not  licensed  by  his  Majesty's  author- 
ity." 

Disregard  of  the  proclamation  was  treated  as  a  breach 
of  the  peace,  and  many  persons  were  punished  accordingly. 
This  severity  produced  the  effect  intended.  The  voice  of 
the  periodical  press  was  stifled,  and  the  London  Gazette 
was  left  almost  in  exclusive  possession  of  the  field  of  news. 
When  Monmouth  landed  in  1685  the  King  managed  to 
obtain  from  Parliament  a  renewal  of  the  Licensing  Act  for 
seven  years,  and  even  after  the  Revolution  of  1688  several 
attempts  were  made  by  the  Ministerial  Whigs  to  prolong 
or  to  renew  the  operation  of  the  Act.  In  spite,  however, 
of  the  violence  of  the  organs  of  "  Grub  Street,"  w^hich  had 
grown  up  nnder  it,  these  attempts  were  unsuccessful ;   it 


^ 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  83 

was  justly  felt  that  it  was  wiser  to  leave  falsehood  and 
scurrility  to  be  gradually  corrected  by  public  opinion,  as 
speaking  through  an  unfettered  press,  than  to  attack  them 
by  a  law  which  they  had  proved  themselves  able  to  defy. 
From  1682  the  freedom  of  the  press  may  therefore  be  said 
to  date,  and  the  lapse  of  the  Licensing  Act  was  the  signal 
for  a  remarkable  outburst  of  journalistic  enterprise  and  in- 
vention. Not  only  did  the  newspapers  devoted  to  the  re- 
port of  foreign  intelligence  reappear  in  greatly  increased 
numbers,  but,  whereas  the  old  Mercuries  had  never  been 
published  more  than  once  in  the  same  week,  the  new 
comers  made  their  appearance  twice  and  sometimes  even 
/three  times,  ttn  1702  was  printed  the  first  daily  newspa- 
per. The  Daily  Courant  It  could  only  at  starting  provide 
material  to  cover  one  side  of  a  half  sheet  of  paper ;  but 
the  other  side  was  very  soon  covered  with  printed  matter, 
in  which  form  its  existence  was  prolonged  till  1735. 

The  development  of  party  government  of  course  encour- 
aged the  controversial  capacities  of  the  journalist,  and 
many  notorious,  and  some  famous  names  are  now  found 
among  the  combatants  in  the  political  arena.  On  the  side 
of  the  Whigs  the  most  redoubtable  champions  were  Dan- 
iel Def  oc^ofthe.  Review,  who  was  twice  imprisoned  and 
once  set  in  the  pillory  for  his  political  writings ;  John  Tut- 
chin,  of  the  Ohservator ;  and  Ridpath,  of  the  Flying  Post 
— all  of  whom  have  obtained  places  in  the  Dunciad,  The 
old  Tories  appear  to  have  been  satisfied  during  the  early 
part  of  Queen  Anne's  reign  with  prosecuting  the  newspa- 
pers that  attacked  them  ;  but  Harley,  who  understood  the 
power  of  the  press,  engaged  Prior  to  harass  the  Whigs  in 
the  Examiner,  and  was  afterwards  dexterous  enough  to  se- 
cure the  invaluable  assistance  of  Swift  for  the  same  paper. 
In  opposition  to  the  Examiner  inHTearly  days  the  Whigs, 


84  ADDISON.  [chap. 

as  Las  been  said,  started  the  Wki(/  Examiner^  under  the 
auspices  of  Addison,  so  that  the  two  great  liistorical  par- 
ties had  their  cases  stated  by  the  two  greatest  prose- writers 
of  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Beside  the  Quidnunc  and  the  party  politician,  another 
class  of  reader  now  appeared  demanding  aliment  in  the 
press.  Men  of  active  and  curious  minds,  with  a  little  lei- 
sure and  a  large  love  of  discussion,  loungers  at  Will's  or 
at  the  Grecian  Coffee-IIouses,  were  anxious  to  have  their 
doubts  on  all  subjects  resolved  by  a  printed  oracle.  Their 
tastes  were  gratified  by  the  ingenuity  of  John  Dunton, 
whose  strange  account  of  his  Life  and  Errors  throws  a 
strong  light  on  the  literary  history  of  this  period.  In 
1690  Dunton  published  his  Athenian  Gazette^  the  name 
of  which  he  afterwards  altered  to  the  Athenian  Mercury, 
The  object  of  this  paper  was  to  answer  questions  put  to 
the  editor  by  the  public.  These  were  of  all  kinds — on  re- 
ligion, casuistry,  love,  literature,  and  manners — no  question 
being  too  subtle  or  absurd  to  extract  a  reply  from  the  con- 
ductor of  the  paper.  The  Athenian  Mercury  seems  to 
have  been  read  by  as  many  distinguished  men  of  the  pe- 
riod as  Notes  and  Queries  in  our  own  time,  and  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  quaint  humours  it  originated  gave 
the  first  hint  to  the  inventors  of  the  Tatler  and  the  Spec- 
tator, 

Advertisements  were  inserted  in  the  newspapers  at  a 
comparatively  early  period  of  their  existence.  The  editor 
acted  as  middleman  between  the  advertiser  and  the  public, 
and  made  his  announcements  in  a  style  of  easy  frankness 
which  will  appear  to  the  modern  reader  extremely  re- 
freshing. Thus,  in  the  "  Collection  for  the  Improve- 
ment of  Husbandry  and  Trade"  (1682),  there  are  the  fol- 
lowinir: 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  86 

"  If  I  can  meet  with  a  sober  man  that  has  a  counter-tenor  voice, 
I  can  help  him  to  a  place  worth  thirty  pound  the  year  or  more. 

"If  any  noble  or  other  gentleman  wants  a  porter  that  is  very 
lusty,  comely,  and  six  foot  high  and  two  inches,  I  can  help. 

"  I  want  a  complete  young  man  that  will  wear  a  livery,  to  wait  on 
a  very  valuable  gentleman ;  but  he  must  know  how  to  play  on  a  vio- 
lin or  flute. 

"  I  want  a  genteel  footman  that  can  play  on  the  violin,  to  wait  on 
a  person  of  honour."  ^ 

^.^  Evcrjtliing  was  now  prepared  for  the  production  of  a 
class  of  ncNvspapcr  designed  to  form  and  direct  public  opin- 
ion on  rational  principles.  The  press  was  emancipated 
from  State  control ;  a  reading  public  had  constituted 
itself  out  of  the  habitues  of  the  coffee-houses  and  clubs; 
nothing  was  wanted  but  an  inventive  genius  to  adapt 
the  materials  at  his  disposal  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
time.  The  required  hero  was  not  long  in  making  his 
appearance.  ,  v^ 

Richard  Steele,  the  son  of  an  official  under  the  Irish  Gov- 
ernment, was,  above  all  things,  **  a  creature  of  ebullient 
heart."  Impulse  and  sentiment  were  with  him  always  far 
stronger  motives  of  action  than  reason,  principle,  or  even 
interest.  He  left  Oxford,  without  taking  a  degree,  from 
an  ardent  desire  to  serve  in  the  army,  thereby  sacrificing 
his  prospect  of  succeeding  to  a  family  estate ;  his  extrav- 
agance and  dissipation  while  serving  in  the  cavalry  were 
notorious ;  yet  this  did  not  dull  the  clearness  of  his  moral 
perceptions,  for  it  was  while  his  excesses  were  at  their 
height  that  he  dedicated  to  his  commanding  officer.  Lord 
Cutts,  his  Christian  Hero.  Vehement  in  his  political,  as 
in  all  other  feelings,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  resign  the  office 
he  held  under  the  Tory  Government  in  lYll  in  order  to 
'  Andrews'  History  of  British  Joui'nalism. 


86  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

attack  it  for  what  he  considered  its  treachery  to  the  coun- 
try; but  he  was  equally  outspoken,  and  with  equal  disad- 
vantage to  himself,  when  he  found  himself  at  a  later  period 
in  disagreement  with  the  Whigs.  He  had  great  fertility 
of  invention,  strong  natural  humour,  true  though  unculti- 
vated taste,  and  inexhaustible  human  sympath3\ 

His  varied  experience  had  made  him  well  acquainted  with 
life  and  character,  and  in  his  office  of  Gazetteer  he  had  had 
an  opportunity  of  watching  the  eccentricities  of  the  public 
taste,  which,  now  emancipated  from  restraint,  began  vaguely 
to  feel  after  new  ideals.  That,  under  such  circumstances, 
he  should  have  formed  the  design  of  treating  current  events 
from  a  humorous  point  of  view  was  only  natural,  but  he 
was  indebted  for  the  form  of  his  newspaper  to  the  most 
original  genius  of  the  age.  Swift  had  early  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century  exercised  his  ironical  vein  by  treating  the 
everyday  occurrences  of  life  in  a  mock-heroic  style.  Among 
his  pieces  of  this  kind  that  were  most  successful  in.  catch- 
ing the  public  taste  were  the  humorous  predictions  of  the 
death  of  Partridge,  the  astrologer,  signed  with  the  name 
of  Isaac  Bickerstaff.  Steele,  seizing  on  the  name  and  char- 
acter of  Partridge's  fictitious  rival,  turned  him  with  much 
pleasantry  into  the  editor  of  a  new  journal,  the  design  of 
which  he  makes  Isaac  describe  as  follows : 

"  The  state  of  conversation  and  business  in  this  town  having  long 
been  perplexed  with  Pretenders  in  both  kinds,  in  order  to  open  men's 
minds  against  such  abuses,  it  appeared  no  unprofitable  undertaking 
to  publish  a  Paper,  which  should  observe  upon  the  manners  of  the 
pleasurable,  as  well  as  the  busy  part  of  mankind.  To  make  this  gen- 
erally read,  it  seemed  the  most  proper  method  to  form  it  by  way  of  a 
Letter  of  Intelligence,  consisting  of  such  parts  as  might  gratify  the 
curiosity  of  persons  of  all  conditions  and  of  each  sex.  .  .  .  The  gen- 
eral purposes  of  this  Paper  is  to  expose  the  false  arts  of  life,  to  pull 
off  tlie  disguises  of  cunning,  vanity,  and  affectation,  and  to  recom- 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  87 

mend  a  general  simplicity  in  our  dress,  our  discourse,  and  our  be- 
haviour." * 

The  name  of  the  Tatler,  Isaac  informs  us,  was  "  invented 
in  honour  of  the  fair  sex,"  for  whose  entertainment  the  new 
paper  was  largely  designed.  It  appeared  three  times  a 
week,  and  its  price  was  a  penny,  though  it  seems  that  the 
first  number,  published  April  12, 1709,  was  distributed  gratis 
as  an  advertisement.  In  order  to  make  the  contents  of  the 
paper  varied  it  was  divided  into  five  portions,  of  which  the 
editor  gives  the  following  account : 

"  All  accounts  of  Gallantry,  Pleasure,  and  Entertainment,  shall  be 
under  the  article  of  White's  Chocolate-IIouse  ;  Poetry  under  that  of 
Will's  Coffee-House ;  Learning  under  the  title  of  Grecian ;  Foreign 
and  Domestic  News  you  will  have  from  Saint  James*  Coffee-House ; 
and  what  else  I  have  to  offer  on  any  other  subject  shall  be  dated  from 
my  own  apartment."  ^ 

In  this  division  we  see  the  importance  of  the  coffee-  | 
houses  as  the  natural  centres  of  intelligence  and  opinion.  ; 
Of  the  four  houses  mentioned,  St.  James'  and  White's, 
both  of  them  in  St.  James'  Street,  were  the  chief  haunts  of 
statesmen  and  men  of  fashion,  and  the  latter  had  acquired 
an  infamous  notoriety  for  the  ruinous  gambling  of  its  ha- 
bitues, WilFs,  in  Russell  Street,  Covent  Garden,  kept  up 
the  reputation  which  it  had  procured  in  Dryden's  time  as 
the  favourite  meeting -place  of  men  of  letters;  while  the 
Grecian,  in  Devereux  Court  in  the  Strand,  which  was  the 
oldest  coffee-house  in  London,  afforded  a  convenient  rendez- 
vous for  the  learned  Templars.  At  starting,  the  design  an- 
nounced in  the  first  number  was  adhered  to  with  tolerable 
fidelity.  The  paper  dated  from  St.  James'  Coffee-House 
was  always  devoted  to  the  recital  or  foreign  news ;  that 
from  Will's  either  criticised  the  current  dramas,  or  con- 
J  Taller,  No.  1.  ^  /^^^ 


88  ADDISON.  [chap. 

tained  a  copy  of  verses  from  some  author  of  repute,  or  a 
piece  of  general  literary  criticism ;  the  latest  gossip  at 
White's  was  reproduced  in  a  fictitious  form  and  with  added 
colour.  Advertisements  were  also  inserted ;  and  half  a 
sheet  of  the  paper  was  left  blank,  in  order  that  at  the  last 
moment  the  most  recent  intelligence  might  be  added  in 
manuscript,  after  the  manner  of  the  contemporary  news- 
letters. In  all  these  respects  the  character  of  the  news- 
paper was  preserved ;  but  in  the  method  of  treating  news 
adopted  by  the  editor  there  was  a  constant  tendency  to 
subordinate  matter  of  fact  to  the  elements  of  humour,  fic- 
tion, and  sentiment.  In  his  survey  of  the  manners  of  the 
time,  Isaac,  as  an  astrologer,  was  assisted  by  a  familiar 
spirit,  named  Pacolet,  who  revealed  to  him  the  motives  and 
secrets  of  men  ;  his  sister,  Mrs.  Jenny  Distaff,  was  occasion- 
ally deputed  to  produce  the  paper  from  the  wizard's  "  own 
apartment;"  and  Kidney,  the  waiter  at  St.  James'  Coffee- 
House,  was  humorously  represented  as  the  chief  authority 
in  all  matters  of  foreign  intelligence. 

The  mottoes  assumed  by  the  Taller  at  different  periods 
of  its  existence  mark  the  stages  of  its  development.  On 
its  first  appearance,  when  Steele  seems  to  have  intended  it 
to  be  little  more  than  a  lively  record  of  news,  the  motto 
placed  at  the  head  of  each  paper  was 

"  Quidquid  agunt  homines, 

nostri  est  farrago  libelli." 

It  soon  became  evident,  however,  that  its  true  function 
was  not  merely  to  report  the  actions  of  men,  but  to  discuss 
the  propriety  of  their  actions;  and  by  the  time  that  suffi- 
cient material  had  accumulated  to  constitute  a  volume,  the 
essayists  felt  themselves  justified  in  appropriating  the  words 
used  by  Pliny  in  the  preface  to  his  Natural  History : 


T.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR  89 

"  Nemo  apud  nos  qui  idem  tentaverit :  equidera  sentio  peculiarem 
in  studiis  causam  eorum  esse,  qui  difficultatibus  victis,  utilitatem  ju- 
Tandi,  protulerunt  gratise  placendi.  Res  ardua  vetustis  novitatem 
dare,  novis  auctoritatem,  obsoletis  nitorem,  fastidiis  gratiam,  dubiis 
fidem,  omnibus  vero  naturam,  et  naturae  suae  omnia.  Itaque  non  as- 
SECUTis  voluisse^  abunde  pulchrum  atque  magnificum  est." 

The  disguise  of  the  mock  astrologer  proved  very  useful 
to  Steele  in  his  character  of  moralist.  It  enabled  him  to 
give  free  utterance  to  his  better  feelings,  without  the  risk  of 
incurring  the  charge  of  inconsistency  or  hypocrisy,  and  noth- 
ing can  be  more  honourable  to  him  than  the  open  manner 
in  which  he  acknowledges  his  own  unfitness  for  the  position 
of  a  moralist :  "  I  shall  not  carry  my  humility  sc^  far,"  says  he, 
"  as  to  call  myself  a  vicious  man,  but  at  the  same  time  must 
confess  my  life  is  at  best  but  pardonable.  With  no  greater 
character  than  this,  a  man  would  make  but  an  indifferent 
progress  in  attacking  prevailing  and  fashionable  vices,  which 
Mr.  Bickerstaff  has  done  with  a  freedom  of  spirit  that  would 
have  lost  both  its  beauty  and  eflScacy  had  it  been  pretended 
to  by  Mr.  Steele."  ' 

As  Steele  cannot  claim  the  sole  merit  of  having  invented 
the  form  of  the  Tatler,  so,  too,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
he  could  never  have  addressed  society  in  the  high  moral 
tone  assumed  by  Bickerstaff  if  the  road  had  not  been  pre- 
pared for  him  by  others.  One  name  among  his  predeces- 
sors stands  out  with  a  special  title  to  honourable  record. 
Since  the  Restoration  the  chief  school  of  manners  had 
been  the  stage,  and  the  flagrant  example  of  immorality  set 
by  the  Court  had  been  bettered  by  the  invention  of  the 
comic  dramatists  of  the  period.  Indecency  was  the  fash- 
ion ;  religion  and  sobriety  were  identified  by  the  polite 
world  with  Puritanism  and  hypocrisy.  Even  the  Church 
'  rrt;/fr,No.2'7l. 


\ 


90  ADDISOK  [chap. 

had  not  yet  ventured  to  say  a  word  in  behalf  of  virtue 
against  the  prevailing  taste,  and  when  at  last  a  clergyman 
raised  his  voice  on  behalf  of  the  principles  which  he  pro- 
fessed, the  blow  which  he  dealt  to  his  antagonists  was  the 
more  damaging  because  it  was  entirely  unexpected.  Jer- 
Qj3iy_Collier  was  not  only  a  Tory  but  a  Jacobite,  not  only 
a  High  Churchman  but  a  Nonjuror,  who  had  been  out- 
lawed for  his  fidelity  to  the  principles  of  Legitimism  ;  and 
that  such  a  man  should  have  published  the  Short  View  of 
the  Immorality  and  Profaneness  of  the  Unglish  Stage^  re- 
flecting, as  the  book  did,  in  the  strongest  manner  on  the 
manners  of  the  fallen  dynasty,  was  as  astounding  as  thun- 
der from  a  clear  sky.  Collier,  however,  was  a  man  of  sin- 
cere piety,  whose  mind  was  for  the  moment  occupied  only 
by  the  overwhelming  danger  of  the  evil  which  he  proposed 
to  attack.  It  is  true  that  his  method  of  attack  was  cum- 
brous, and  that  his  conclusions  w^re  far  too  sweeping  and 
often  unjust ;  nevertheless,  the  general  truth  of  his  criti- 
cisms was  felt  to  be  irresistible.  Congreve  and  Yanbrugh 
each  attempted  an  apology  for  their  profession ;  both,  how- 
ever, showed  their  perception  of  the  weakness  of  their  po- 
sition by  correcting  or  recasting  scenes  in  their  comedies 
to  which  Collier  had  objected.  JQryden  accepted  the  re- 
proof in  a  nobler  spirit.  Even  while  he  had  pandered  to 
the  tastes  of  the  times,  he  had  been  conscious  of  his 
treachery  to  the  cause  of  true  art,  and  had  broken  out 
in  a  fine  passage  in  his  Ode  to  the  Memory  of  Mrs,  Kil- 
ligreiv  : 

"  0  gracious  God  !  how  far  have  we 
Profaned  thy  heavenly  gift  of  poesy  ! 
Made  prostitute  and  profligate  the  Muse, 
Debased  to  each  obscene  and  impious  use ! 


T.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  91 

'*  0  wretched  we !  why  were  we  hurried  down 
This  lubrique  and  adulterous  age 
(Nay,  added  fat  pollutions  of  our  own) 

To  increase  the  streaming  ordure  of  the  stage  V 

When  Collier  attacked  him  he  bent  his  head  in  submission. 
"In  many  things,"  says  he,  "he  has  taxed  me  justly,  and 
I  have  pleaded  guilty  to  all  thought  and  expressions  of 
mine  which  can  be  truly  argued  of  obscenity,  profaneness, 
or  immorality,  and  retract  them.  If  he  be  my  enemy,  let 
him  triumph ;  if  he  be  my  friend,  as  I  have  given  him  no 
personal  occasion  to  be  otherwise,  he  will  be  glad  of  my 
repentance."  ^ 

The  first  blow  against  fashionable  i^imorality  having 
been  boldly  struck,  was  followed  up  systematically.  In 
1690  was  founded  "The  Society  for  the  Reformation  of 
Manners,"  which  published  every  year  an  account  of  the 
progress  made  in  suppressing  profaneness  and  debauchery 
by  its  means.  It  continued  its  operations  till  1738,  and 
during  its  existence  prosecuted,  according  to  its  own  cal- 
culations, 101,683  persons.  William  III.  showed  himself 
prompt  to  encourage  the  movement  which  his  subjects  had 
begun.  The  London  Gazette  of  27th  February,  1698-99, 
contains  a  report  of  the  following  remarkable  order : 

"His  Majesty  being  informed,  That,  notwithstanding  an  order 
made  the  4th  of- June,  1697,  by  the  Earl  of  Sunderland,  then  Lord 
Chamberlain  of  His  Majesty's  Household,  to  prevent  the  Prophane- 
ness  and  Immorality  of  the  Stage,  several  Plays  have  been  lately 
acted  containing  expressions  contrary  to  Religion  and  Good  Man- 
ners :  and  whereas  the  Master  of  the  Revels  has  represented,  That, 
in  contempt  of  the  said  order,  the  actors  do  often  neglect  to  leave 
out  such  Prophane  and  Indecent  expressions  as  he  has  thought 
proper  to  be  omitted.     These  are  therefore  to  signifie  his  Majesty's 

^  Preface  to  the  Fables. 


92  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

pleasure,  that  you  do  not  hereafter  presume  to  act  anything  in  any 
play  contrary  to  Religion  and  Good  Manners  as  you  shall  answer  it 
at  your  utmost  peril.  Given  under  my  Hand  this  18th  of  February, 
1698.     In  the  eleventh  year  of  his  Majesty's  reign." 

It  is  difficult  to  realise,  in  reading  the  terms  of  this  or- 
der, that  only  thirteen  years  had  elapsed  since  the  death 
of  Charles  II.,  and  undoubtedly  a  very  large  share  of  the 
credit  due  for  such  a  revolution  in  the  public  taste  is  to 
be  assigned  to  Collier.  Collier,  however,  did  nothing  in  a 
literary  or  artistic  sense  to  improve  the  character  of  Eng- 
lish literature.  His  severity,  uncompromising  as  that  of 
the  Puritans,  inspired  Vice  with  terror,  but  could  not  plead 
with  persuasion  on  behalf  of  Virtue ;  his  sweeping  conclu- 
sions struck  at  the  roots  of  Art  as  well  as  of  Immorality. 
He  sought  to  destroy  the  drama  and  kindred  pleasures 
of  the  Imagination,  not  to  reform  them.  What  the  age 
needed  was  a  writer  to  satisfy  its  natural  desires  for  healthy 
and  rational  amusement,  and  Steele,  with  his  strongly-de- 
veloped twofold  character,  was  the  man  of  all  others  to 
bridge  over  the  chasm  between  irreligious  licentiousness 
and  Puritanical  rigidity.  Driven  headlong  on  one  side  of 
his  nature  towards  all  the  tastes  and  pleasures  which  ab- 
sorbed the  Court  of  Charles  II.,  his  heart  in  the  midst  of 
his  dissipation  never  ceased  to  approve  of  whatever  was 
great,  noble,  and  generous.  He  has  described  himself  with 
much  feeling  in  his  disquisition  on  the  Make,  a  character 
which  he  says  many  men  are  desirous  of  assuming  without 
any  natural  qualifications  for  supporting  it : 

"A  Rake,"  says  he,  "is  a  man  always  to  be  pitied ;  and  if  he  lives 
one  day  is  certainly  reclaimed  ;  for  his  faults  proceed  not  from  choice 
or  inclination,  but  from  strong  passions  and  appetites,  which  are  in 
youth  too  violent  for  the  curb  of  reason,  good  sense,  good  manners, 
and  good  nature;  all  which  he  must  have  by  nature  and  education 


V.J  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  93  - 

before  he  can  be  allowed  to  be  or  to  have  been  of  this  order.  .  .  .  His 
desires  run  away  with  him  through  the  strength  and  force  of  a  lively 
imagination,  which  hurries  him  on  to  unlawful  pleasures  before  rea- 
son has  power  to  come  in  to  his  rescue." 

That  impulsiveness  of  feeling  which  is  here  described,  • 
and  which  was  the  cause  of  so  many  of  Steele's  failings 
in  real  life,  made  him  the  most  powerful  and  persuasive 
advocate  of  Virtue  in  fiction.  lO^  ^H  the_jmaginative 
English  essayists  he  is  the  most  truly  naturahj  His  large 
heart  seems  to  rush  out  in  sympathy  with  any  tale  of 
sorrow  or  exhibition  of  magnanimity  ;  and  even  in  criti- 
cism, his  true  natural  instinct,  joined  to  his  constitu- 
tional enthusiasm,  often  raises  his  judgments  to  a  level 
with  those  of  Addison  himself,  as  in  his  excellent  essay 
in  the  Spectator  on  EaphaeFs  cartoons.  Examples  of 
these  characteristics  in  his  style  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Story  of  Unnion  and  Valentine,^  and  in  the  fine  paper 
describing  two  tragedies  of  real  life ;  ^  in  the  series  of 
papers  on  duelling,  occasioned  by  a  duel  into  which  he 
was  himself  forced  against  his  own  inclination;^  and  in 
the  sound  advice  which  Isaac  gives  to  his  half-sister 
Jenny  on  the  morrow  of  her  marriage.*  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, the  chivalry  and  generosity  of  feeling  which  make 
Steele's  writings  so  attractive  are  most  apparent  in  the 
delightful  paper  containing  the  letter  of  Serjeant  Hal) 
from  the  camp  before  Mons.  After  pointing  out  to  his 
readers  the  admirable  features  in  the  Serjeant's  simple 
letter,  Steele  concludes  as  follows  : 

"  If  we  consider  the  heap  of  an  army,  utterly  out  of  all  prospect 
of  rising  and  preferment,  as  they  certainly  are,  and  such  great  things 

1  Tatler,  No.  5.  ,  «  lb.,  No.  82. 

3  lb.,  Nos.  25,  26,  28,  29,  38,  39.  ^  /^^^  ^^^  85. 


94  ADDISON.  [chap. 

executed  by  them,  it  is  hard  to  account  for  the  motive  of  their  gal- 
hmtry.  But  to  me,  who  was  a  cadet  at  the  battle  of  Coldstream,  in 
Scotland,  when  Monk  charged  at  the  head  of  the  regiment  now  called 
Coldstream,  from  the  victory  of  that  day — I  remember  it  as  well  as 
if  it  were  yesterday ;  I  stood  on  the  left  of  old  West,  who  I  believe  is 
now  at  Chelsea — I  say  to  me,  who  know  very  well  this  part  of  man- 
kind, I  take  the -gallantry  of  private  soldiers  to  proceed  from  the 
same,  if  not  from  a  nobler,  impulse  than  that  of  gentlemen  and  offi- 
cers. They  have  the  same  taste  of  being  acceptable  to  their  friends, 
and  go  tlirough  the  difficulties  of  that  profession  by  the  same  irre- 
sistible charm  of  fellowship  and  the  communication  of  joys  and  sor- 
rows which  quickens  the  relish  of  pleasure  and  abates  the  anguish 
of  pain.  Add  to  this  that  they  have  the  same  regard  to  fame, 
though  they  do  not  expect  so  great  a  share  as  men  above  them  hope 
for ;  but  I  will  engage  Serjeant  Hall  would  die  ten  thousand  deaths 
rather  than  that  a  word  should  be  spoken  at  the  Red  Lettice,  or  any 
part  of  the  Butcher  Row,  in  prejudice  to  his  courage  or  honesty.  If 
you  will  have  my  opinion,  then,  of  the  Serjeant's  letter,  I  pronounce 
the  style  to  be  mixed,  but  truly  epistolary ;  the  sentiment  relating  to 
his  own  wound  in  the  sublime;  the  postscript  of  Pegg  Hartwell  in 
the  gay ;  and  the  whole  the  picture  of  the  bravest  sort  of  men,  that 
is  to  say,  a  man  of  great  courage  and  small  hopes."  ^ 

With  such  excellences  of  style  and  sentiment  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  Tatler  rapidly  established  itself  in  public 
favour.  It  was  a  novel  experience  for  the  general  reader 
to  be  provided  three  times  a  week  with  entertainment 
that  pleased  his  imagination  without  offending  his  sense 
of  decency  or  his  religious  instincts.  ^  But  a  new_hand 
shortly  appeared  in  the  Tatlei\  which  was  destined  to 
carry  the  art  of  periodical  essay-writing  to  a  perfection 
beside  which  even  the  humour  of  Steele  appears  rude  and 
unpolished.  Addison  and  Steele  had  been  friends  since 
boyhood.  They  had  been  contemporaries  at  the  Charter 
House,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  Steele  had  sometimes  spent 
his  holidays  in  the  parsonage  of  Addison's  father.  He 
I  Tatler,  No.  87. 


T.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  95 

was  a  postmaster  at  Merton  about  the  same  time  that  his 
friend  was  a  Fellow  of  Magdalen.  The  admiration  which 
he  conceived  for  the  hero  of  his  boyhood  lasted,  as  so 
often  happens,  through  life;  he  exhibited  his  veneration 
for  him  in  all  places,  and  even  when  Addison  indulged 
his  humour  at  his  expense  he  showed-no  resentment. 
Addison,  on  his  side,  seems  to  have  treated  Steele  with  a 
kind  of  gracious  condescension.  The  latter  was  one  of 
the  few  intimate  friends  to  whom  he  unbent  in  conver- 
sation ;  and  while  he  was  Under-Secretary  of  State  he 
aided  him  in  the  production  of  The  Tender  Husband, 
which  was  dedicated  to  him  by  the  author.  Of  tins  phiy 
Steele  afterwards  declared  with  characteristic  impulse  that 
many  of  the  most  admired  passages  were  the  work  of  his 
friend,  and  that  he  "  thought  very  meanly  of  himself  that 
he  had  never  publicly  avow^ed  it." 

The  authorship  of  the  Tatler  was  at  first  kept  secret 
to  all  the  world.  It  is  said  that  the  hand  of  Steele  dis- 
covered itself  to  Addison  on  reading  in  the  fifth  number 
a  remark  which  he  remembered  to  have  himself  made  to 
Steele  on  the  judgment  of  Virgil,  as  shown  in  the  appel- 
lation of  "Dux  Trojanus,''  which  the  Latin  poet  assigns 
to  ^neas,  when  describing  his  adventure  with  Dido  in 
the  cave,  in  the  place  of  the  usual  epithet  of  "pius"  or 
"pater."  Thereupon  he  offered  his  services  as  a  con- 
tributor, and  these  were  of  course  gladly  accepted.  The  \ 
first  paper  sent  by  Addison  to  the  Tatler  was  No.  18, 
wherein  is  displayed  that  inimitable  art  which  makes  a  \/ 
man  appear  infinitely  ridiculous  by  the  ironical  commenda- 
tion of  his  offences  against  right,  reason,  and  good  taste. 
The  subject  is  the  approaching  peace  with  France,  and  it 
is  noticeable  that  the  article  of  foreign  news,  which  had 
been  treated   in  previous  Tatlers  with   complete  serious- 


96  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

ness,  is  here  for  the  first  time  invested  with  an  air  of 
pleasantry.  The  distress  of  the  news-writers  at  the  pros- 
pect of  peace  is  thus  described : 

*'  There  is  another  sort  of  gentlemen  whom  I  am  much  more  con- 
cerned for,  and  that  is  the  ingenious  fraternity  of  which  I  have  the 
honour  to  be  an  unwortliy  member ;  I  mean  the  news-writers  of 
Great  Britain,  whether  Post-men  or  Post-boys,  or  by  what  other  name 
or  title  soever  dignified  or  distinguished.  The  case  of  these  gentle- 
men is,  I  think,  more  hard  than  that  of  the  soldiers,  considering  that 
they  have  taken  more  towns  and  fought  more  battles.  They  have 
been  upon  parties  and  skirmishes  when  our  armies  have  lain  still, 
and  given  the  general  assault  to  many  a  place  when  the  besiegers 
were  quiet  in  their  trenches.  They  have  made  us  masters  of  several 
strong  towns  many  weeks  before  our  generals  could  do  it,  and  com- 
pleted victories  when  our  greatest  captains  have  been  glad  to  come 
off  with  a  drawn  battle.  Where  Prince  Eugene  has  slain  his  thou- 
sands Boyer  has  slain  his  ten  thousands.  This  gentleman  can  in- 
deed be  never  enough  commended  for  his  courage  and  intrepidity 
during  this  whole  war:  he  has  laid  about  him  with  an  inexpressible 
fury,  and,  like  offended  Marius  of  ancient  Rome,  made  such  havoc 
among  his  countrymen  as  must  be  the  work  of  two  or  three  ages  to 
repair.  ...  It  is  impossible  for  this  ingenious  sort  of  men  to  subsist 
after  a  peace:  every  one  remembers  the  shifts  they  were  driven  to 
in  the  reign  of  King  Charles  the  Second,  when  they  could  not  furnish 
out  a  single  paper  of  news  without  lighting  up  a  comet  in  Germany 
or  a  fire  in  Moscow.  There  scarce  appeared  a  letter  without  a  para- 
graph on  an  earthquake.  Prodigies  were  grown  so  familiar  that 
they  had  lost  their  name,  as  a  great  poet  of  that  age  has  it.  I  re- 
member Mr.  Dyer,  who  is  justly  looked  upon  by  all  the  foxhunters  in 
the  nation  as  the  greatest  statesman  our  country  has  produced,  was 
particularly  famous  for  dealing  in  whales,  in  so  much  that  in  five 
months'  time  (for  I  had  the  curiosity  to  examine  his  letters  on  that 
occasion)  he  brought  three  into  the  mouth  of  the  river  Thames,  be- 
sides two  porpusses  and  a  sturgeon." 


^ 


p     The  appearance  of  Addison  as  a  regular  contributor  to 
the  Taller  gradually  brought  about  a  revolution  in  the 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  97 

character  of  the  paper.  For  some  time  longer,  indeed,  \ 
articles  continued  to  be  dated  from  the  different  coffee- 
houses, but  only  slight  efforts  were  made  to  distinguish 
the  materials  furnished  from  White's,  Will's,  or  Isaac's 
own  apartment.  When  the  hundredth  number  was  reached 
a  fresh  address  is  given  at  Shere  Lane,  where  the  astrol- 
oger lived,  and  henceforward  the  papers  from  White's  and 
Will's  grow  extremely  rare ;  those  from  the  Grecian  may 
be  said  to  disappear;  and  the  foreign  intelligence,  dated  ^ 
from  St.  James',  whenever  it  is  inserted,  which  is  seldom, 
is  as  often  as  not  made  the  text  of  a  literary  disquisition. 
Allegories  become  frequent,  and  the  letters  sent,  or  sup- 
posed to  be  sent,  to  Isaac  at  his  home  address  furnish  the 
material  for  many  numbers.  The  Essay,  in  fact,  or  that 
part  of  the  newspaper  which  goes  to  form  public  opinion, 
preponderates  greatly  over  that  portion  which  is  devoted 
to  the  report  of  news.  Spence  quotes  from  a  Mr.  Chute : 
"  I  have  heard  Sir  Eichard  Steele  say  that,  though  he  had 
a  greater  share  in  the  Tatlers  than  in  the  Spectators^  he 
thought  the  news  article  in  the  first  of  these  was  what 
contributed  much  to  their  success."*  Chute,  however, 
seems  to  speak  with  a  certain  grudge  against  Addison, 
and  the  statement  ascribed  by  him  to  Steele  is  intrinsi- 
cally improbable.  It  is  not  very  likely  that,  as  the  propri- 
etor of  the  Tatlei\  he  would  have  dispensed  with  any  ele- 
ment in  it  that  contributed  to  its  popularity,  yet  after  , 
No.  100  the  news  articles  are  seldom  found.  The  truth  is  ^ 
that  Steele  recognised  the  superiority  of  Addison's  style, 
and  with  his  usual  quickness  accommodated  the  form  of 
his  journal  to  the  genius  of  the  new  contributor. 

"  I  have  only  one  gentleman,"  says  he,  in  the  preface  to  the  Toiler^ 

^  Spence's  Anecdotes^  p.  325.  ^ 


98  ADDISON.  [chap. 

"  who  will  be  nameless,  to  thank  for  any  frequent  assistance  to  me, 
which  indeed  it  would  have  been  barbarous  in  him  to  have  denied  to 
one  with  whom  he  has  lived  in  intimacy  from  childhood,  considering 
the  great  ease  with  which  he  is  able  to  despatch  the  most  entertain- 
ing pieces  of  this  nature.  This  good  office  he  performed  with  such 
force  of  genius,  humour,  wit,  and  learning  that  I  fared  like  a  dis- 
tressed prince  who  calls  in  a  powerful  neighbour  to  his  aid ;  I  was 
undone  by  my  own  auxiliary ;  when  I  had  once  called  him  in  I  could 
not  subsist  without  dependence  on  him." 

With  his  usual  enthusiastic  generosity,  Steele,  in  this 
passage,  unduly  depreciates  his  own  merits  to  exalt  the 
genius  of  his  friend.  A  comparison  of  the  amount  of 
material  furnished  to  the  Taller  by  Addison  and  Steele 
respectively  shows  that  out  of  271  numbers  the  latter  con- 
tributed 188  and  the  former  only  42.  Nor  is  the  dispar- 
ity in  quantity  entirely  balanced  by  the  superior  quality 
of  Addison's  papers.  Though  it  was,  doubtless,  his  fine 
workmanship  and  admirable  method  which  carried  to  per- 
fection the  style  of  writing  initiated  in  the  Tatler,  yet 
there  is  scarcely  a  department  of  essay-writing  developed 
in  the  Spectator  which  does  not  trace  its  origin  to  Steele. 
It  is  Steele  who  first  ventures  to  raise  his  voice  against 
the  prevailing  dramatic  taste  of  the  age  on  behalf  of  the 
superior  morality  and  art  of  Shakespeare's  plays. 

*'  Of  all  men  living,"  says  he,  in  the  eighth  Tatle)\  "I  pity  players 
(who  must  be  men  of  good  understanding  to  be  capable  of  being 
such)  that  they  are  obliged  to  repeat  and  assume  proper  gestures 
for  representing  things  of  which  their  reason  must  be  ashamed,  and 
which  they  must  disdain  their  audience  for  approving.  The  amend- 
ment of  these  low  gratifications  is  only  to  be  made  by  people  of  con- 
dition, by  encouraging  the  noble  representation  of  the  noble  charac- 
ters drawn  by  Shakespeare  and  others,  from  whence  it  is  impossible 
to  return  without  strong  impressions  of  honour  and  humanity.  On 
these  occasions  distress  is  laid  before  us  with  all  its  causes  and  con- 
sequences, and  our  resentment  placed  according  to  the  merit  of  the 


T.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  99 

person  afflicted.  Were  dramas  of  this  nature  more  acceptable  to 
the  taste  of  the  town,  men  who  have  genius  would  bend  their  stud- 
ies to  excel  in  them." 

Steele,  too,  it  was  who  attacked,  with  all  the  vigour  of 
which  he  was  capable,  the  fashionable  vice  of  gambUng.  ^ 
So  severe  were  his  comments  on  this  subject  in  the  Tatler 
that  he  raised  against  himself  the  fierce  resentment  of  the 
whole  community  of  sharpers,  though  he  was  fortunate 
enough  at  the  same  time  to  enlist  the  sympathies  of  the 
better  part  of  society.  **  Lord  Forbes,"  says  Mr.  Nichols, 
the  antiquary,  in  his  notes  to  the  Tatler^  "  happened  to  be 
in  company  with  the  two  military  gentlemen  just  men- 
tioned" (Major-General  Davenport  and  Brigadier  Bisset) 
*'in  St.  James'  Coffee -House  when  two  or  three  well- 
dressed  men,  all  unknown  to  his  lordship  or  his  company, 
came  into  the  room,  and  in  a  public,  outrageous  manner 
abused  Captain  Steele  as  the  author  of  the  Tatler,  One 
of  them,  with  great  audacity  and  vehemence,  swore  that 
he  would  cut  Steele's  throat  or  teach  him  better  manners. 
'  In  this  country,'  said  Lord  Forbes,  *  you  will  find  it  easier 
to  cut  a  purse  than  to  cut  a  throat.'  His  brother  officers 
instantly  joined  with  his  lordship  and  turned  the  cut- 
throats out  of  the  coffee-house  with  every  mark  of  dis- 
grace." ^ 

The  practice  of  duelling,  also,  which  had  hitherto  passed  ^ 
unreproved,  was  censured  by  Steele  in  a  series  of  papers     ^ 
in  the  Tatler^  which  seemed  to  have  been  written  on  an 
occasion  when,  having  been  forced  to  fight  much  against 
his  will,  he  had  the  misfortune  dangerously  to  wound  his 
antagonist.^     The  sketches  of  character  studied  from  life,    i 
and   the   letters  from   fictitious   correspondents,  both   of   j 

^  Taller^  vol.  iv.  p.  545  (Nichols*  edition). 
2  See  p.  93,  note  3. 
5^ 


100  ADDISON.  [chap. 

which  form  so  noticeable  a  feature  in  the  Spectator^  ap- 
pear roughly,  but  yet  distinctly,  drafted  in  the  Taller, 
Even  the  papers  of  literary  criticism,  afterwards  so  fully 
elaborated  by  Addison,  are  anticipated  by  his  friend,  who 
may  fairly  claim  the  honour  to  have  been  the  first  to 
spealc  "with  adequate  respect  of  the   genius  of   Milton.* 

CIn  a  word,  whatever  w^as  perfected  by  Addison  w^as  begun 
by  Steele ;  if  the  one  has  for  ever  associated  his  name 
with  the  Spectator^  the  other  may  justly  appropriate  the 
credit  of  the  Taller^  a  work  which  bears  to  its  successor 
the  same  kind  of  relation  that  the  frescoes  of  Masaccio 
bear,  in  point  of  dramatic  feeling  and  style,  to  those  of 
Raphael ;  the  later  productions  deserving  honour  for  fin- 
\  ish  of  execution,  the  earlier  for  priority  of  invention. 
^j|*  The  Tatler  was  published  till  the  2d  of  January,  1710- 
11,  and  w\as  discontinued,  according  to  Steele's  own  ac- 
count, because  the  public  had  penetrated  his  disguise,  and 
he  was  therefore  no  longer  able  to  preach  with  effect  in 
the  person  of  Bickerstaff.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
this  was  his  real  motive  for  abandoning  the  paper.  He 
had  been  long  known  as  its  conductor ;  and  that  his  read- 
ers had  shown  no  disinclination  to  listen  to  him  is  proved, 
not  only  by  the  large  circulation  of  each  number  of  the 
^  Tatler^  but  by  the  extensive  sale  of  the  successive  volumes 
of  the  collected  papers  at  the  high  price  of  a  guinea  apiece. 
He  was,  in  all  probability,  led  to  drop  the  publication  by 
finding  that  the  political  element  that  the  paper  contained 
Avas  a  source  of  embarrassment  to  him.  His  sympathies 
were  vehemently  Whig;  the  Tatler  from  the  beginning 
had  celebrated  the  virtues  of  Marlborough  and  his  friends, 
both  directly  and  under  cover  of  fiction  ;  and  he  had  been 
rewarded  for  his  services  Avith  a  commissionership  of  the 
^  Tatle)\  No.  G. 


^ 


\i 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  101 

Stamp-office.  When  the  Whig  Ministry  fell  in  IVIO,  Har- 
ley,  setting  a  just  value  on  the  abilities  of  Steele,  left  him 
in  the  enjoyment  of  his  office  and  expressed  his  desire  to 
serve  him  in  any  other  way.  Under  these  circumstances, 
Steele  no  doubt  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  discontinue  a 
paper  which,  both  from  its  design  and  its  traditions,  would 
have  tempted  him  into  the  expression  of  his  political  par- 
tialities. 

For  two  months,  therefore,  "the  censorship  of  Great 
Britain,"  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  "  remained  in  commis- 
sion," until  Addison  and  he  once  more  returned  to  dis- 
charge the  duties  of  the  office  in  the  Spectator^  the  first 
number  of  which  was  published  on  the  1st  of  March, 
1710-11.  The  Tatler  had  only  been  issued  three  times  a 
week,  but  the  conductors  of  the  new  paper  were  now  so 
confident  in  their  own  resources  and  in  the  favour  of  the 
public  that  they  undertook  to  bring  out  one  number  daily.  ; 
The  new  paper  at  once  exhibited  the  impress  of  Addison's  i 
genius,  which  had  gradually  transformed  the  character  of 
the  Tatler  itself.  The  latter  was  originally,  in  every  sense 
of  the  word,  a  newspaper,  but  the  Spectator  from  the  first 
indulged  his  humour  at  the  expense  of  the  clubs  of  Quid- 
nuncs. 

"  Tliere  is,"  says  he,  "  another  set  of  men  that  I  must  likewise  lay 
a  claim  to  as  being  altogether  unfurnished  with  ideas  till  the  busi- 
ness and  conversation  of  the  day  has  supplied  them.  I  have  often 
considered  these  poor  souls  with  an  eye  of  great  commiseration  when 
I  have  heard  them  asking  the  first  man  they  have  met  with  whether 
there  was  any  news  stirring,  and  by  that  means  gathering  together 
materials  for  thinking.  These  needy  persons  do  not  know  what  to 
talk  of  till  about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  morning;  for  by  that  time 
they  are  pretty  good  judges  of  the  weather,  know  which  way  the 
wind  sets,  and  whether  the  Dutch  mail  be  come  in.  As  they  lie  at 
the  mercy  of  the  first  man  they  meet,  and  are  grave  or  impertinent 


/p 


102  ADDISON.  [chap. 

all  the  day  long,  according  to  the  notions  which  they  have  imbibed 
in  the  morning,  I  would  earnestly  entreat  them  not  to  stir  out  of 
their  chambers  till  they  have  read  this  paper ;  and  do  promise  them 
that  I  will  daily  instil  into  them  such  sound  and  wholesome  senti- 
ments as  shall  have  a  good  effect  on  their  conversation  for  the  en- 
suing twelve  hours."  ^ 

For  these,  and  other  men  of  leisure,  a  kind  of  paper 
differing  from  the  Taller^  which  proposed  only  to  retail 
the  various  species  of  gossip  in  the  coffee-houses,  was  re- 
quired, and  the  new  entertainment  was  provided  by  the 
original  design  of  an  imaginary  club,  consisting  of  several 
ideal  types  of  character  grouped  round  the  central  figure 
of  the  Spectator.  They  represent  considerable  classes  or 
sections  of  the  community,  and  are,  as  a  rule,  men  of 
strongly  marked  opinions,  prejudices,  and  foibles,  which 
furnish  inexhaustible  matter  of  comment  to  the  Spectator 
himself,  who  delivers  the  judgments  of  reason  and  com- 
mon-sense. Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  with  his  simplicity, 
his  high  sense  of  honour,  and  his  old-world  reminiscences, 
reflects  the  country  gentleman  of  the  best  kind ;  Sir  An- 
drew Freeport  expresses  the  opinions  of  the  enterprising, 
hard-headed,  and  rather  hard-hearted  moneyed  interest; 
Captain  Sentry  speaks  for  the  army ;  the  Templar  for  the 
world  of  taste  and  learning;  the  clergyman  for  theology 
and  philosophy  ;  while  Will  Honeycomb,  the  elderly  man 
of  fashion,  gives  the  Spectator  many  opportunities  for  crit- 
icising the  traditions  of  morality  and  breeding  surviving 
from  the  days  of  the  Restoration.  Thus,  instead  of  the 
/  division  of  places  which  determined  the  anangenient  of 
the  Tatlei\  the  different  subjects  treated  in  the  Spectaiox 
are  distributed  among  a  variety  of  persons :  the  Templar 
is  substituted  for  the  Grecian  Coffee-House  and  Will's; 
'  Spectator^  No.  10. 


). 


V]  THE  TATLER  AND  &FEC. 

Will  Honeycomb  takes  the  place  of  "White's; 
Sentry,  whose  appearances  are  rare,  stands  for  the  more 
voluminous  article  on  foreign  intelligence  published  in  the 
old  periodical,  under  the  head  of  St.  James's.  The  Spec- 
tator himself  finds  a  natural  prototype  in  Isaac  Bickerstaff, 
but  his  character  is  drawn  with  a  far  greater  finish  and 
delicacy,  and  is  much  more  essential  to  the  design  of  the 
paper  which  he  conducts,  than  w\is  that  of  the  old  astrol- 
ofrer. 

The  aini_of^the  Spectator  \\^s_to„.estaW[ish^  a  rational 
standard  of  conduct  in  morals,  manners,  art,  and  literature. 


"Since,"  says  he  in  one  of  his  early  numbers,  "I  have  raised  to 
myself  so  great  an  audience,  I  shall  spare  no  pains  to  make  their  in- 
struction agreeable  and  their  diversion  useful.  For  Avhich  reason  I 
shall  endeavour  to  enliven  morality  with  wit,  and  to  temper  wit  with 
morality,  that  my  readers  may,  if  possible,  both  ways  find  their  ac- 
count in  the  speculation  of  the  day.  And  to  the  end  that  their  virtue 
and  discretion  may  not  be  short,  transient,  intermitting  starts  of 
thought,  I  have  resolved  to  refresh  their  memories  from  day  to  day 
till  I  have  recovered  them  out  of  that  desperate  state  of  vice  and 
folly  into  which  the  age  has  fallen.  The  mind  that  lies  fallow  but  a 
single  day  sprouts  up  in  follies  that  are  only  to  be  killed  by  a  con- 
stant and  assiduous  culture.  It  was  said  of  Socrates  that  he  brought 
Philosophy  down  from  heaven  to  inhabit  among  men ;  and  I  shall 
be  ambitious  to  have  it  said  of  me  that  I  have  brought  Philosophy 
out  of  closets  and  libraries,  schools  and  colleges,  to  dwell  in  clubs 
and  assemblies,  at  tea-tables  and  in  coffee-houses."  ^ 

Johnson,  in  his  L\fe  of  Addison,  says  that  the  task  un- 
dertaken in  the  Spectator  was  "  first  attempted  by  Casa  in 
his  book  oi  Manners,  and  Castiglione  in  his  Courtier ;  two 
books  yet  celebrated  in  Italy  for  purity  and  elegance, 
and  which,  if  they  are  now  less  read,  are  neglected  only 
because  they  have  effected  that  reformation  which  their 
*  Spectator^  No.  10. 


104  ADDISON.  [chap. 

authors  intended,  and  their  precepts  now  are  no  longer 
wanted."  lie  afterwards  praises  tlie  Tatler  and  Spectator 
by  saying  that  they  *' adjusted,  like  Casa,  the  unsettled 
practice  of  daily  intercourse  by  propriety  and  politeness, 
and,  like  La  Bruyere,  exhibited  the  characters  and  man- 
ners of  the  age."  rThis  commendation  scarcely  does  jus- 
tice to  the  work  of  Addison  and  Steele.  Casa,  a  man 
equally  distinguished  for  profligacy  and  politeness,  merely 
codified  in  his  Galateo  the  laws  of  good  manners  which 
prevailed  in  his  age.  He  is  the  Lord  Chesterfield  of  Italy. 
Castiglione  gives  instructions  to  the  young  courtier  how 
to  behave  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  himself  agreeable 
to  his  prince.  La  Bruyero's  characters  are  no  doubt  the 
literary  models  of  those  which  appear  in  the  Spectator. 
But  La  Bruyere  merely  described  what  he  saw,  with  ad- 
mirable wit,  urbanity,  and  scholarship,  but  without  any  of 
the  earnestness  of  a  moral  reformer.  \  He  could  never  have 
conceived  tlie  character  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  ;  and, 
though  he  was  ready  enough  to  satirise  the  follies  of  so- 
ciety as  an  observer  from  the  outside,  to  bring  "  philoso- 
phy out  of  closets  and  libraries,  to  dwell  in  clubs  and  as- 
semblies," was  far  from  being  his  ambition.  lie  would 
probably  have  thought  the  publication  of  a  newspaper 
scarcely  consistent  with  his  position  as  a  gentleman. 

A  very  large  portion  of  the  Spectator  is  devoted  to  re- 
flections on  the  manners  of  women.  Addison  saw  clearly 
Ihow  important  a  part  the  female  sex  was  destined  to  play 
Bu  the  formation  of  English  taste  and  manners.  Removed 
from  the  pedestal  of  enthusiastic  devotion  on  which  they 
Lad  been  placed  during  the  feudal  ages,  women  were  treated 
iinder  the  Restoration  as  mere  playthings  and  luxuries, 
is  manners  became  more  decent  they  found  themselves 
cured  in  their  emancipated  position  but  destitute  of  se- 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR,  105 

rious  and  rational  employment.  It  was  Addison's  object, 
therefore,  to  enlist  the  aid  of  female  genius  in  softening, 
refining-,  and  moderating  the  gross  and  conflicting  tastes 
of  a  half-civilised  society. 

"  There  are  none,"  he  sa3's,  "  to  whom  this  paper  will  be  more 
useful  than  to  the  female  world.  I  have  often  thought  there  has 
not  been  sufficient  pains  taken  in  finding  out  proper  employments 
and  diversions  for  tlie  fair  ones.  Their  amusements  seem  contrived 
for  them,  rather  as  they  are  women  than  as  they  are  reasonable 
creatures,  and  are  more  adapted  to  the  sex  tlian  to  the  species.  The 
toilet  is  their  great  scene  of  business,  and  the  right  adjustment  of 
their  hair  the  principal  employment  of  their  lives.  The  sorting  of 
a  suit  of  ribands  is  reckoned  a  very  good  morning's  work ;  and  if 
they  make  an  excursion  to  a  mercer's  or  a  toy  shop,  so  great  a  fa- 
tigue makes  them  unfit  for  anything  else  all  the  day  after.  Their 
more  serious  occupations  are  sewing  and  embroidery,  and  their  great- 
est drudgery  the  preparations  of  jelUes  and  sweetmeats.  Tliis,  I  say, 
is  the  state  of  ordinary  women,  thougli  I  know  there  are  multitudes 
of  those  of  a  more  elevated  life  and  conversation  that  move  in  an 
exalted  sphere  of  knowledge  and  virtue,  that  join  all  the  beauties 
of  the  mind  to  the  ornaments  of  dress,  and  inspire  a  kind  of  awe  and 
respect,  as  well  as  of  love,  into  their  male  beholders.  I  hope  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  these  by  publishing  this  daily  paper,  which  I 
shall  always  endeavour  to  make  an  innocent,  if  not  an  improving 
entertainment,  and  by  that  means,  at  least,  divert  the  minds  of  my 
female  readers  from  greater  trifles."  ^ 


Tp  sofffe^of  the  vigorous  spirits  of  the  age  the  mild  and 
social  character  of  the  Spectator''s  satire  did  not  commend 
itself.  Swift,  who  had  contributed  several  papers  to  the 
Tatler  while  it  was  in  its  infancy,  found  it  too  feminine 
for  his  taste.  "  I  will  not  meddle  with  the  Spectator,^'' 
says  he  in  his  Journal  to  Stella,  "  let  liim  fair  sex  it  to 
the  world's  end."  Personal  pique,  however,  may  have 
done  as  much  as  a  differing  taste  to  depreciate  the  Spec- 
^  Spectator,  No.  10. 


106  ADDISON.  [chap. 

tator  in  the  eyes  of  the  author  of  the  Tale  of  a  Tub,  for 
he  elsewhere  acknowledges  its  merits.  "  The  Spectatoi',^^ 
he  writes  to  Stella,  "  is  written  by  Steele,  with  Addison's 
help  ;  it  is  often  very  pretty  ....  But  I  never  see  hira 
(Steele)  or  Addison."  That  part  of  the  public  to  whom 
the  paper  was  specially  addressed  read  it  with  keen  relish. 
In  the  ninety-second  number  a  correspondent,  signing  her- 
self "  Leonora,"  ^  writes  : 

"  Mr.  Spectator, — Your  paper  is  a  part  of  my  tea-equipage ;  and 
my  servant  knows  my  humour  so  well  that,  calling  for  my  breakfast 
this  morning  (it  being  past  my  usual  hour),  she  answered,  the  Spec- 
tator was  not  yet  come  in,  but  the  tea-kettle  boiled,  and  she  expected 
it  every  moment." 

In  a  subsequent  number  *' Thomas  Trusty"  writes: 

"  I  constantly  peruse  your  paper  as  I  smoke  my  morning's  pipe 
(though  I  can't  forbear  reading  the  motto  before  I  fill  and  light),  and 
really  it  gives  a  grateful  relish  to  every  whiff ;  each  paragraph  is 
fraught  either  with  useful  or  delightful  notions,  and  I  never  fail  of 
being  highly  diverted  or  improved.  The  variety  of  your  subjects 
surprises  me  as  much  as  a  box  of  pictures  did  formerly,  in  which 
there  was  only  one  face,  that  by  pulling  some  pieces  of  isinglass 
over  it  was  changed  into  a  grave  senator  or  a  merry-andrew,  a  pol- 
ished lady  or  a  nun,  a  beau  or  a  blackamoor,  a  prude  or  a  coquette, 
a  country  squire  or  a  conjuror,  with  many  other  different  represen- 
tations very  entertaining  (as  you  are),  though  still  the  same  at  the 
bottom."  2 

The  Spectator  was  read  in  all  parts  of  the  country. 

"  I  must  confess,"  says  Addison,  as  his  task  was  drawing  to  an 
end,  "  that  I  am  not  a  little  gratified  and  obliged  by  that  concern 
which  appears  in  this  great  city  upon  my  present  design  of  laying 
down  this  paper.  It  is  likewise  with  much  satisfaction  that  I  find 
some  of  the  most  outlying  parts  of  the  kingdom  alarmed  upon  this 

^  The  writer  was  a  Miss  Shepherd. 
^  Spectator,  ^0 AM. 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  107 

occasion,  having  received  letters  to  expostulate  with  me  about  it 
from  several  of  my  readers  of  the  remotest  boroughs  of  Great  Brit- 


With  how  keen  an  interest  the  public  entered  into  the 
humour  of  the  paper  is  shown  by  the  following  letter,  signed 

"Philo-Spec:" 

"I  was  this  morning  in  a  company  of  your  well-wishers,  when  we 
read  over,  with  great  satisfaction,  Tully's  observations  on  action  ad- 
apted to  the  British  theatre,  though,  by  the  way,  we  were  very  sorry 
to  find  that  you  have  disposed  of  another  member  of  your  club.  Poor 
Sir  Roger  is  dead,  and  the  worthy  clergyman  dying ;  Captain  Sentry 
has  taken  possession  of  a  fair  estate ;  Will  Honeycomb  has  married 
a  farmer's  daughter;  and  the  Templar  withdraws  himself  into  the 
business  of  his  own  profession."  ^ 

It  is  no  wonder  that  readers  anticipated  with  regret  the 
dissolution  of  a  society  that  had  provided  them  with  so 
much  delicate  entertainment.  Admirably  as  the  club  was 
designed  for  maintaining  that  variety  of  treatment  on  which 
Mr.  Trusty  comments  in  the  letter  quoted  above,  the  exe- 
cution of  the  design  is  deserving  of  even  greater  admira- 
tion. The  sldll  with  which  the  grave  speculations  of  the 
Spectator  are  contrasted  with  the  lively  observations  of  Will 
Honeycomb  on  the  fashions  of  the  age,  and  these  again  are 
diversified  with  papers  descriptive  of  character  or  adorned 
with  fiction,  while  the  letters  from  the  public  outside  form 
a  running  commentary  on  the  conduct  of  the  paper,  cannot . 
be  justly  appreciated  without  a  certain  effort  of  thought. 
\  But  it  may  safely  be  said  that,  to  have  provided  society 
day  after  day,  for  more  than  two  years,  with  a  species  of 
entertainment  which,  nearly  two  centuries  later,  retains  all 
its  old  power  to  interest  and  delight,  is  an  achievement 
unique  in  the  history  of  literature.  Even  apart  from  the 
exquisite  art  displayed  in  their  grouping,  the  matter  of  many 
J  Spectator,  No.  553.  '^  Ibid.,  No.  542. 


/ 


108  ADDISON.  [chap. 

of  the  essays  in  the  Spectator  is  still  valuable.  The  vivid 
descriptions  of  contemporary  manners,  the  inimitable  series 
of  sketches  of  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley,  the  criticisms  in  the 
papers  on  True  and  False  Wit  and  Milton's  Paradise  Lost, 
have  scarcely  less  significance  for  ourselves  than  for  the  so- 
ciety for  which  they  were  immediately  written.  \ 

Addison's  own  papers  were  274  in  number,  as  against  236 
/  contributed  by  Steele.  They  were,  as  a  rule,  signed  w^ith 
one  of  the  four  letters  C.  L.  I.  O.,  either  because,  as  Tickell 
seems  to  hint  in  his  Elegy,  they  composed  the  name  of  one 
of  the  Muses,  or,  as  later  scholars  have  conjectured,  because 
they  were  respectively  w^ritten  from  four  different  localities 
— viz.,  Chelsea,  London,  Islington,  and  the  Office. 
V  The  sale  of  the  Spectator  was  doubtless  very  large  rela- 
|tively  to  the  number  of  readers  in  Queen  Anne's  reign. 
^  'Johnson,  indeed,  computes  the  number  sold  daily  to  have 
been  only  sixteen  hundred  and  eighty,  but  he  seems  to  have 
overlooked  what  Addison  himself  says  on  the  subject  very 
shortly  after  the  paper  had  been  started  :  "  My  publisher  tells 
me  that  there  are  already  three  thousand  of  them  distrib- 
uted every  day."  ^  This  number  must  have  gone  on  increas- 
ing with  the  growing  reputation  of  the  Spectator,  When 
the  Preface  of  the  Four  Serr)ions  of  Dr.  Fleetwood,  Bishop 
of  Llandaff,  w^as  suppressed  by  order  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, the  Spectator  printed  it  in  its  384th  number,  thus  con- 
veying, as  the  Bishop  said  in  a  letter  to  Burnet,  Bishop  of 
Salisbury,  "fourteen  thousand  copies  of  the  condemned 
preface  into  people's  hands  that  would  otherwise  have  never 
seen  or  heard  of  it."  Making  allowance  for  the  extraor- 
dinary character  of  the  number,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
conclude  that  the  usual  daily  issue  of  the  Spectator  to 
readers  in  all  parts  of  the  kingdom  would,  towards  the  close 
of  its  career,  have  reached  ten  thousand  copies.     The  sep- 

J   yprfafor,  Xo.  10. 


v.]  THE  TATLER  AND  SPECTATOR.  109 

arate  papers  were  afterwards  collected  into  octavo  volumes, 
wliicli  were  sold,  like  the  volumes  of  the  Taller^  for  a  guinea 
apiece.     Steele  tells  us  that  more  than  nine  thousand  copies        X 
of  each  volume  were  sold  off/ 

Nothing  could  have  been  better  timed  than  the  appear- 
ance of  the  SiJectator;  it  may  indeed  be  doubted  whether 
it  could  have  been  produced  with  success  at  any  other  pe-  t^  -^ 
riod.  Had  it  been  projected  earlier,  while  Addison  was 
still  in  office,  his  thoughts  would  have  been  diverted  to  other 
subjects,  and  he  would  have  been  unlikely  to  survey  the 
world  with  quite  impartial  eyes ;  had  the  publication  been 
delayed  it  would  have  come  before  the  public  when  the 
balance  of  all  minds  was  disturbed  by  the  dangers  of  the 
political  situation.  The  diflSculty  of  preserving  neutrality 
under  such  circumstances  was  soon  shown  by  the  fate  of 
the  Guardian,  Shortly  after  the  Spectator  was  discontin- 
ued this  new  paper  was  designed  by  the  fertile  invention 
of  Steele,  with  every  intention  of  keeping  it,  like  its  pred- 
ecessor, free  from  the  entanglements  of  party.  But  it  had 
not  proceeded  beyond  the  forty -first  number  when  the 
vehement  partizanship  of  Steele  was  excited  by  the  Tory 
£]xaminer  ;  in  the  128th  number  appeared  a  letter,  signed 
"An  English  Tory,"  calling  for  the  demolition  of  Dunkirk, 
while  soon  afterwards,  finding  that  his  political  feelings 
were  hampered  by  the  design  on  which  the  Guardian  was 
conducted,  he  dropped  it  and  replaced  it  with  a  paper  called 
the  Englisltnian,  Addison  himself,  who  had  been  a  frequent 
contributor  to  the  Guardian^  did  not  aid  in  the  Englishman, 
of  the  violent  party  tone  of  which  he  strongly  disapproved. 
A  few  years  afterwards  the  old  friends  and  coadjutors  in  ^ 
the  Tatler  and  Spectator  found  themselves  maintaining  an 
angry  controversy  in  the  opposing  pages  of  the  Old  Whig 

and  the  Plebeian, 

^  Spectator^  No.  555. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CATO. 

It  is  a  peculiarity  in  Addison's  life  that  Fortune,  as  if  con- 
spiring with  the  happiness  of  his  genius,  constantly  fur- 
nished him  with  favourable  opportunities  for  the  exercise 
of  his  powers.  The  pension  granted  him  by  Halifax  en- 
abled him,  while  he  was  yet  a  young  man,  to  add  to  his 
knowledge  of  classical  literature  an  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  languages  and  governments  of  the  chief  European 
states.  When  his  fortunes  were  at  the  lowest  ebb  on  his 
return  from  his  travels,  his  introduction  to  Godolphin  by 
Halifax,  the  consequence  of  which  was  The  Campaign^  pro- 
cured him  at  once  celebrity  and  advancement.  The  ap- 
pearance of  the  Tatler,  though  due  entirely  to  the  inven- 
tion of  Steele,  prepared  the  way  for  development  of  the 
genius  that  prevailed  in  the  Spectator,  Bat  the  climax  of 
Addison's  good  fortune  was  certainly  the  successful  pro- 
duction of  Cato^  a  play  which,  on  its  own  merits,  might 
have  been  read  with  interest  by  the  scholars  of  the  time, 
but  which  could  scarcely  have  succeeded  on  the  stage  if  it 
had  not  been  appropriated  and  made  part  of  our  national 
life  by  the  violence  of  political  passion. 
(  Addison  had  not  the  genius  of  a  dramatist.  ^  The  grace, 
the  irony,  the  fastidious  refinement  which  give  him  such 
an  unrivalled  capacity  in  describing  and  criticising  the  hu- 


CHAP.  VI.]  CATO.  Ill 

mours  of  men  as  a  spectator  did  not  qualify  Lira  for  imag- 
inative sympathy  with  their  actions  and  passions.  But, 
like  most  men  of  ability  in  that  period,  his  thoughts  were 
drawn  towards  the  stage,  and  even  in  Dryden's  lifetime  he 
had  sent  him  a  play  in  manuscript,  asking  him  to  use  his 
interest  to  obtain  its  performance.  The  old  poet  returned 
it,  we  are  told,  "  with  many  commendations,  but  with  an 
expression  of  his  opinion  that  on  the  stage  it  w^ould  not 
meet  with  its  deserved  success."  Addison,  nevertheless, 
persevered  in  his  attempts,  and  during  his  travels  he  wrote 
four  acts  of  the  tragedy  of  Cato,  the  design  of  which,  ac- 
cording to  Tickell,  he  had  formed  while  he  was  at  Oxford, 
though  he  certainly  borrowed  many  incidents  in  the  play 
from  a  tragedy  on  the  same  subject  which  he  saw  per- 
formed at  Venice.*  It  is  characteristic,  however,  of  the 
undramatic  mood  in  which  he  executed  his  task  that  the 
last  act  was  not  written  till  shortly  before  the  performance 
of  the  play,  many  years  later.  As  early  as  1703  the  drama 
was  shown  to  Gibber  by  Steele,  who  said  that  "  whatever 
spirit  Mr.  Addison  had  shown  in  his  writing  it,  he  doubted 
that  he  would  ever  have  courage  enough  to  let  his  Cato 
stand  the  censure  of  an  English  audience ;  that  it  had  only 
been  the  amusement  of  his  leisure  hours  in  Italy,  and  was 
never  intended  for  the  stage."  He  seems  to  have  remained 
of  the  same  opinion  on  the  very  eve  of  the  performance  of 
the  play.  ("  When  Mr.  Addison,"  says  Pope,  as  reported 
by  Spence,  *'had  finished  his  Cato  he  brought  it  to  me, 
desired  to  have  my  sincere  opinion  of  it,  and  left  it  with 
me  for  three  or  four  days.  I  gave  him  my  opinion  of  it 
sincerely,  which  was,  *  that  I  thought  he  had  better  not  act 
it,  and  that  he  would  get  reputation  enough  by  only  print- 
ing it.'  This  I  said  as  thinking  the  lines  well  written,  but 
*  See  Addison's  Works  (Tiekeirs  edition),  vol.  v.  p.  187. 


112  ADDISON.  [chap. 


the  piece  not  theatrical  enough.  (  Some  time  after  Mr.  Ad- 
dison said  *  that  his  own  opinion  was  the  same  with  mine, 
but  that  some  particular  friends  of  his,  wh^m  he  could  not 
disoblige,  insisted  on  its  being  acted.'  "  * 

Undoubtedly,  Pope  was  right  in  principle,  and  anybody 
who  reads  the  thirty-ninth  paper  in  the  Spectator  may  see 
not  only  that  Addison  was  out  of  sympathy  with  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  English  stage,  but  that  his  whole  turn  of 
thought  disqualified  him  from  comprehending  the  motives 
of  dramatic  composition.  "  The  modern  drama,"  says  he, 
"  excels  that  of  Greece  and  Rome  in  the  intricacy  and  dis- 
position of  the  fable — but,  what  a  Christian  writer  would 
be  ashamed  to  own,  falls  infinitely  short  of  it  in  the  moral 
part  of  the  performance."  And  the  entire  drift  of  the  crit- 
icism that  follows  relates  to  the  thought,  the  sentiment, 
and  the  expression  of  the  modern  drama,  rather  than  to 
the  really  essential  question,  the  nature  of  the  action.  It 
is  false  criticism  to  say  that  the  greatest  dramas  of  Shake- 
speare fail  in  morality  as  compared  with  those  of  the  Greek 
tragedians.  That  the  manner  in  which  the  moral  is  con- 
veyed is  different  in  each  case  is  of  course  true,  since  the 
subjects  of  Greek  tragedy  were  selected  from  Greek  my- 
thology, and  were  treated  by  JEschylus  and  Sophocles,  at 
all  events,  in  a  religious  spirit,  whereas  the  plays  of  Shake- 
speare are  only  indirectly  Christian,  and  produce  their  ef- 
fect by  an  appeal  to  the  individual  conscience.  None  the 
less  is  it  the  case  that  Macbeth^  Hamlet^  and  Lear  have 
for  modern  audiences  a  far  deeper  moral  meaning  than  the 
Agamemnon  or  the  (Edipus  Tyrannus.  The  tragic  motive 
in  Greek  tragedy  is  the  impotence  of  man  in  the  face  of 
moral  law  or  necessity ;  in  Shakespeare's  tragedies  it  is  the 
corruption  of  the  will,  some  sin  of  the  individual  against 
*  Spence's  Anecdotes^  p.  196. 


tl]  CATO.  113 

the  law  of  God,  whicli  brings  its  own  punishment.  There 
was  nothing  in  tliis  principle  of  which  a  Christian  drama- 
tist need  have  been  ashamed ;  and  as  regards  Shakespeare, 
at  any  rate,  it  is  evident  that  Addison's  criticism  is  unjust. 
It  is,  however,  by  no  means  undeserved  in  its  applica- 
tion to  the  class  of  plays  which  grew  up  after  the  Resto- 
ration. Under  that  regime  the  moral  spirit  of  the  Shake- 
sperian  drama  entirely  disappears.  The  king,  whose  tem- 
per was  averse  to  tragedy,  and  whose  talte  had  been  formed 
on  French  models,  desired  to  see  every  play  end  happily. 
"  I  am  going  to  end  a  piece,''  writes  Roger,  Earl  of  Orrery, 
to  a  friend,  ""  in  the  French  style,  because  I  have  heard  the 
King  declare  that  he  preferred  their  manner  to  our  own." 
The  greatest  tragedies  of  the  Elizabethan  age  were  trans- 
formed to  suit  this  new  fashion  ;  even  King  Lear  obtained 
a  happy  deliverance  from  his  sufferings  in  satisfaction  of 
the  requirements  of  an  effeminate  Court.  Addison  very 
wittily  ridicules  this  false  taste  in  the  fortieth  number  of 
the  Spectator,  He  is  not  less  felicitous  in  his^reraarks  on 
the  sentiments  and  the  style  of  the  Caroline  drama,  though 
he  does  not  sufficiently  discriminate  his  censure,  which  he 
bestows  equally  on  the  dramatists  of  the  Restoration  and 
on  Shakespeare.  Two  main  characteristics  appear  in  all 
the  productions  of  the  former  epoch  —  the  monarchical 
spirit  and  the  fashion  of  gallantry.  The  names  of  the 
plays  speak  for  themselves :  on  the  one  hand.  The  Indian 
Emperor,  Aurengzehe,  The  Indian  Queen,  The  Conquest 
of  Granada,  The  Fate  of  Hannibal ;  on  the  other.  Secret 
Love,  Tyrannic  Love,  Love  and  Vengeance,  The  Rival 
Queens,  Theodosius,  or  the  Power  of  Love,  and  number- 
less others  of  the  same  kind.  In  the  one  set  of  dramas 
the  poet  sought  to  arouse  the  passion  of  pity  by  exhibit- 
ing the  downfall  of  persons  of  high  estate;  in  the  other 


114  ADDISON.  [chap. 

he  appealed  to  the  sentiment  of  romantic  passion.  Such 
were  the  fruits  of  that  taste  for  French  romance  which 
was  encouraged  by  Charles  II.,  and  which  sought  to  dis- 
guise the  absence  of  genuine  emotion  by  the  turgid  bom- 
bast of  its  sentiment  and  the  epigrammatic  declamation  of 
its  rhymed  verse. 

At  the  same  time,  the  taste  of  the  nation  having  been 
once  turned  into  French  channels,  a  remedy  for  these  de- 
fects was  naturally  sought  for  from  French  sources ;  and 
just  as  the  school  of  Kacine  and  Boileau  set  its  face  against 
the  extravagances  of  the  romantic  coteries,  so  Addison  and 
his  English  followers,  adopting  the  principles  of  the  French 
classicists,  applied  them  to. the  reformation  of  the  English 
theatre.  Hence  arose  a  great  revival  of  respect  for  the  po- 
etical doctrines  of  Aristotle,  regard  for  the  unities  of  time 
and  place,  attention  to  the  proprieties  of  sentiment  and*^ 
diction — in  a  word,  for  all  those  characteristics  of  style 
afterwards  summed  up  in  the  phrase  "  correctness." 

This  habit  of  thought,  usefuf^as  an  antidote  to  extrava- 
gance, was  not  fertile  as  a  motive  of  dramatic  production.   ^' 
Addison  worked  with  strict  and  conscious  attention   to, 
his  critical  principles :  the  consequence^js  that  his  Cato}  \ 
,  though  superficially  "  correct,"  is  a  passionless  and  me-   \ 
chanical  play.     He  had  combated  with  reason  the  "  ridic-   J 
ulous  doctrine  in  modern  criticism,  that  writers  of  trag- 
edy are  obliged  to  an  equal  distribution  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  and  an  impartial  execution  of  poetical  jus- 
tice."^    But  his  reasoning  led  him  on  to  deny  that  the 
idea  of  justice  is  an  essential  element  in  tragedy.     "  We 
find,"  says  he,  *'  that  good  and  evil  happen  alike  to  all 
men  on  this  side  the  grave ;  and,  as  the  principal  design  -^ 
of  tragedy  is  to  raise  commiseration  and  terror  in  the 
*  Sjjectaiory  No.  40. 


VI.]  CATO.  116 

minds  of  the  audience,  we  shall  defeat  this  great  end  if 
we  always  make  virtue  and  innocence  happy  and  success- 
ful. .  .  .  The  ancient  writers  of  tragedy  treated  men  in 
their  plays  as  they  are  dealt  with  in  the  world,  by  making 
virtue  sometimes  happy  and  sometimes  miserable,  as  they 
found  it  in  the  fable  which  they  made  choice  of,  or  as  it 
might  affect  their  audience  in  the  most  agreeable  man- 
ner."* But  it  is  certain  that  the  fable  which  the  two 
greatest  of  the  Greek  tragedians  "made  choice  of"  was 
always  of  a  religious  nature,  and  that  the  idea  of  Justice 
was  never  absent  from  it ;  it  is  also  certain  that  Retribu- 
tion is  a  vital  element  in  all  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare. 
The  notion  that  the  essence  of  tragedy  consists  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  good  man  struggling  with  adversity  is  a  concep- 
tion derived  through  the  French  from  the  Roman  Stoics ; 
it  is  not  found  in  the  works  of  the  greatest  tragic  poets. 

This,  however,  was  Addison's  central  motive,  and  this  is 
what  Pope,  in  his  famous  Prologue,  assigns  to  him  as  his 
chief  praise : 

"  Our  author  shuns  by  vulgar  springs  to  move 
The  hero's  glory  or  the  virgin's  love ; 
In  pitying  love  we  but  our  weakness  show, 
And  wild  ambition  well  deserves  its  woe. 
Here  tears  shall  flow  from  a  more  generous  cause, 
Such  tears  as  patriots  shed  for  dying  laws : 
He  bids  your  breasts  with  ancient  ardour  rise, 
And  calls  forth  Roman  drops  from  British  eyes. 
Virtue  confessed  in  human  shape  he  draws — 
What  Plato  thought,  and  godUke  Cato  was : 
No  common  object  to  your  sight  displays. 
But  what  with  pleasure  heav'n  itself  surveys ; 
A  brave  man  struggling  in  the  storms  of  fate, 
And  greatly  falling  with  a  faUing  state." 

^  Spectator^  No.  40. 


/ 


116  ADDISON.  [ciup. 

A  falling  state  offers  a  tragic  spectacle  to  the  tlioiigbt 
and  the  reason,  but  not  one  that  can  be  represented  on 
the  stage  so  as  to  move  the  passions  of  the  spectators. 
The  character  of  Cato,  as  exhibited  by  Addison,  is  an 
^  abstraction,  round  which  a  number  of  other  lay  figures 
are  skilfully  grouped  for  the  delivery  of  lofty  and  appro- 
priate sentiments.  Juba,  the  virtuous  young  prince  of 
Numidia,  the  admirer  of  Cato's  virtue,  Fortius  and  Mar- 
cus, Cato's  virtuous  sons,  and  Marcia,  his  virtuous  daugh- 
ter, are  all  equally  admirable  and  equally  lifeless.  \  John- 
son's criticism  of  the  play  leaves  little  to  be  said : 

"  About  things,"  he  observes,  "  on  which  the  public  thinks  long 
it  commonly  attains  to  think  right ;  and  of  Cato  it  has  not  been  un- 
justly determined  that  it  is  rather  a  poem  in  dialogue  than  a  drama, 
rather  a  succession  of  just  sentiments  in  elegant  language  than  a 
representation  of  natural  affections,  or  of  any  state  probable  or  pos- 
sible in  human  life.  Nothing  here  '  excites  or  assuages  emotion  ;^ 
here  is  'no  magical  power  of  raising  fantastic  terror  or  wild  anxiety.' 
The  events  are  expected  without  solicitude,  and  are  remembered  witli- 
out  joy  or  sorrow.  Of  the  agents  we  have  no  care  ;  we  consider  not 
what  they  are  doing  or  what  they  are  suffering;  we  wish  only  to 
know  what  they  have  to  say.  Cato  is  a  being  above  our  solicitude ; 
a  man  of  whom  the  gods  take  care,  and  whom  we  leave  to  their  care 
with  heedless  confidence.  To  the  rest  neither  gods  nor  men  can  have 
much  attention,  for  there  is  not  one  among  them  that  strongly  at- 
tracts either  affection  or  esteem.  But  they  are  made  the  vehicles 
of  such  sentiments  and  such  expressions  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
scene  in  the  play  which  the  reader  does  not  wish  to  impress  upon 
his  memory." 

To  this  it  may  be  added  that,  from  the  essentially 
undramatic  bent  of  Addison's  genius,  whenever  he  con- 
trives a  train  of  incident  he  manages  to  make  it  a  little 
absurd.  Dennis  has  pointed  out  with  considerable  hu- 
mour the  consequences  of  his  conscientious  adherence  to 
the  unity  of  place,  whereby  every  species  of  action  in  the 


VI.]  CATO.  117 

play  —  love-making,  conspiracy,  debating,  and  fighting  — 
is  made  to  take  place  in  the  "  large  hall  in  the  govern- 
or's palace  of  Utica."  It  is  strange  that  Addison's  keen 
sense  of  the  ridiculous,  which  inspired  so  happily  his  criti- 
cisms on  the  allegorical  paintings  at  Versailles,*  should 
not  have  shown  him  the  incongruities  which  Dennis  dis- 
cerned ;  but,  in  truth,  they  pervade  the  atmosphere  of  the 
whole  play.  All  the  actors — the  distracted  lovers,  the 
good  young  man,  Juba,  and  the  blundering  conspirator, 
Sempronius — seem  to  be  oppressed  with  an  uneasy  con- 
sciousness that  they  have  a  character  to  sustain,  and  are 
not  confident  of  coming  up  to  what  is  expected  of  them. 
This  is  especially  the  case  with  Fortius,  a  pragmatic  young 
Roman,  whose  praiseworthy  but  futile  attempts  to  unite 
the  qualities  of  Stoical  fortitude,  romantic  passion,  and 
fraternal  loyalty,  exhibit  him  in  a  position  of  almost  comic 
embarrassment.  According  to  Pope,  "  the  love  part  was  j) 
flung  in  after,  to  comply  with  the  popular  taste ;"  but  the 
removal  of  these  scenes  would  make  the  play  so  remark- 
ably barren  of  incident  that  it  is  a  little  difficult  to  credit 
the  statement. 

The  deficiencies  of  Cato  as  an  acting  play  were,  however, 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  violence  of  party  spirit, 
which  insisted  on  investing  the  comparatively  tame  senti- 
ments assigned  to  the  Roman  champions  of  liberty  with  a 
pointed  modern  application.  In  1713  the  rage  of  the  con- 
tending factions  was  at  its  highest  point.  The  Tories  were 
suspected,  not  without  reason,  of  designs  against  the  Act 
of  Settlement ;  the  Whigs,  on  the  other  hand,  were  still 
suffering  in  public  opinion  from  the  charge  of  having,  for 
their  own  advantage,  protracted  the  war  with  Louis  XIV. 
Marlborough  had  been  accused  in  1711  of  receiving  bribes 
'  See  p.  43. 


U8  ADDISON.  [chap. 

while  commander-in-chief,  and  had  been  dismissed  from  all 
his  employments.  Disappointment,  envy,  revenge,  and  no 
doubt  a  genuine  apprehension  for  the  public  safety,  inspired 
the  attacks  of  the  Whigs  upon  their  rivals ;  and  when  it  was 
known  that  Addison  had  in  his  drawers  an  unfinished  play 
on  so  promising  a  subject  as  Cato,  great  pressure  was 
put  upon  bim  by  his  friends  to  complete  it  for  the  stage. 
Somewhat  unwillingly,  apparently,  he  roused  himself  to 
the  task.  So  small,  indeed,  was  his  inclination  for  it,  that 
he  is  said  in  the  first  instance  to  have  asked  Hughes,  after- 
wards author  of  the  Siege  of  Damascus,  to  write  a  fifth  act 
for  him.  Hughes  undertook  to  do  so,  but  on  returning  a 
few  days  afterwards  with  his  own  performance,  he  found 
that  Addison  had  himself  finished  the  play.  In  spite  of 
the  judgment  of  the  critics,  Cato  was  quickly  hurried  off 
for  rehearsal,  doubtless  with  many  fears  on  the  part  of  the 
author.  His  anxieties  during  this  period  must  have  been 
great.  "I  was  this  morning,"  writes  Swift  to  Stella  on 
the  6th  of  April,  "  at  ten,  at  the  rehearsal  of  Mr.  Addison's 
play,  called  Cato,  which  is  to  be  acted  on  Friday.  There 
was  not  half  a  score  of  us  to  see  it.  We  stood  on  the 
stage,  and  it  was  foolish  enough  to  see  the  actors  prompt- 
ed every  moment,  and  the  poet  directing  them,  and  the 
drab  that  acts  Cato's  daughter  (Mrs.  Oldfield)  out  in  the 
midst  of  a  passionate  part,  and  then  calling  out,  *  What's 
next?'" 

Mrs.  Oldfield  not  only  occasionally  forgot  the  poet's  text, 
she  also  criticised  it.  She  seems  to  have  objected  to  the 
original  draft  of  a  speech  of  Fortius  in  the  second  scene  of 
the  third  act ;  and  Pope,  whose  advice  Addison  appears  to 
have  frequently  asked,  suggested  the  present  reading: 

"  Fixt  in  astonishment,  I  gaze  upon  thee 
Like  one  just  blasted  by  a  stroke  from  heaven 


VI.]  CATO.  119 

Who  pants  for  breath,  and  stiffens^  yet  alive^ 
In  dreadful  looks :  a  monument  of  wrath."  ^ 

Pope  also  proposed  the  alteration  of  the  last  line  in  the 
play  from 

"  And  oh,  'twas  this  that  ended  Cato's  life," 
to 

"  And  robs  the  guilty  world  of  Cato's  life ;" 

and  he  was  generally  the  cause  of  many  modifications.  "  I 
believe,"  said  he  to  Spence,  "  Mr.  Addison  did  not  leave  a 
word  unchanged  that  I  objected  to  in  his  CatoP ' 

On  the  1 3th  of  April  the  play  was  ready  for  performance, 
and  contemporary  accounts  give  a  vivid  picture  of  the  eager- 
ness of  the  public,  the  excitement  of  parties,  and  the  ap- 
prehensions of  the  author.  "  On  our  first  night  of  acting 
it,"  says  Gibber,  in  his  Apology,  speaking  of  the  subsequent 
representation  at  Oxford,  "  our  house  was,  in  a  manner,  in- 
vested, and  entrance  demanded  by  twelve  o'clock  at  noon; 
and  before  one  it  was  not  wide  enough  for  many  who  came 
too  late  for  their  places.  The  same  crowds  continued  for 
three  days  together — an  uncommon  curiosity  in  that  place ; 
and  the  death  of  Cato  triumphed  over  the  injuries  of  Caesar 
everywhere."  The  prologue — a  very  fine  one — was  con- 
tributed by  Pope ;  the  epilogue — written,  according  to  the 
execrable  taste  fashionable  after  the  Restoration,  in  a  comic 
vein — by  Garth.  As  to  the  performance  itself,  a  very  lively 
record  of  the  effect  it  produced  remains  in  Pope's  letter  to 
Trumbull  of  the  30th  April,  1713: 

"  Cato  was  not  so  much  the  wonder  of  Rome  in  his  days  as  he  is 
of  Britain  in  ours ;  and  though  all  the  foolish  industry  possible  had 
been  used  to  make  it  thought  a  party  play,  yet  what  the  author 

*  Spence's  Anecdotes^  p.  151.  *  Ihid, 


120  ADDISON.  [chap. 

said  of  another  may  the  most  properly  be  applied  to  him  on  this 
occasion : 

'Euvy  itself  is  dumb,  in  wonder  lost, 
And  factious  strive  wtio  shall  applaud  him  most !'  ^ 

The  numerous  and  violent  claps  of  the  Whig  party  on  the  one  side 
of  the  theatre  were  echoed  back  by  the  Tories  on  the  other,  while 
the  author  sweated  behind  the  scenes  with  concern  to  find  their  ap- 
plause proceeding  more  from  the  hand  than  the  head.  This  was  the 
case,  too,  with  the  Prologue-writer,  who  was  clapped  into  a  staunch 
Whig  at  the  end  of  every  two  lines.  I  believe  you  have  heard  that, 
after  all  the  applauses  of  the  opposite  faction,  my  Lord  Bolingbroke 
sent  for  Booth,  who  played  Cato,  into  the  box,  between  one  of  the 
acts,  and  presented  him  with  fifty  guineas,  in  acknowledgment,  as  he 
expressed  it,  for  defending  the  cause  of  liberty  so  well  against  a  per- 
petual dictator.  The  Whigs  are  unwilling  to  be  distanced  this  way, 
and  therefore  design  a  present  to  the  same  Cato  very  speedily ;  in 
the  meantime  they  are  getting  ready  as  good  a  sentence  as  the  former 
on  their  side ;  so  betwixt  them  it  is  probable  that  Cato  (as  Dr.  Garth 
expressed  it)  may  have  something4o  live  upon  after  he  dies." 

The  Queen  herself  partook,  or  feigned  to  partake,  of  the 
general  enthusiasm,  and  expressed  a  wish  that  the  play  should 
be  dedicated  to  her.  This  honour  had,  however,  been  al- 
ready designed  by  the  poet  foT  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough, 
so  that,  finding  himself  unable  under  the  circumstances  to 
fulfil  his  intentions,  he  decided  to  leave  the  play  without 
any  dedication.  Cato  ran  for  the  then  unprecedented  period 
of  thirty-five  nights.  Addison  appears  to  have  behaved 
with  great  liberality  to  the  actors,  and,  at  Oxford,  to  have 
handed  over  to  them  all  the  profits  of  the  first  night's  per- 
formance; while  they  in  return.  Gibber  tells  us,  thought 
themselves  "  obliged  to  spare  no  pains  in  the  proper  deco- 
rations" of  the  piece. 

The  fame  of  Cato  spread  from  England  to  the  Continent. 
It  was  twice  translated  into  Italian,  twice  into  French,  and 
^  These  lines  are  to  be  found  in  TJie  Campaign^  see  p.  66. 


VI.]  CATO.  121 

once  into  Latin ;  a  French  and  a  German  imitation  of  it 
were  also  publislied.  Voltaire,  to  whom  Shakespeare  ap- 
peared no  better  thaji  an  inspired  barbarian,  praises  it  in 
the  highest  terras,  f  "  The  first  English  writer  who  com- 
posed a  regular  tragedy  and  infused  a  spirit  of  elegance 
through  every  part  of  it  was,"  says  he,  "  the  illustrious  Mr. 
Addison.  His  Cato  is  a  masterpiece,  both  with  regard  to 
the  diction  and  the  harmony  and  beauty  of  the  numbers. 
The  character  of  Cato  is,  in  my  opinion,  greatly  superior 
to  that  of  Cornelia  in  the  Pompey  of  Corneille,  for  Cato  is 
great  without  anything  of  fustian,  and  Cornelia,  who  besides 
is  not  a  necessary  character,  tends  sometimes  to  bombast."  J) 
Even  he,  however,  could  not  put  up  with  the  love-scenes: 

** Addison  Pa  dej^  tente ; 
C'etoit  le  poete  des  s^ges, 
Mais  11  etoit  trop  concerte, 
Et  dans  son  Caton  si  vante 
Les  deux  filles  en  verite, 
Sont  d'insipides  personages. 
Imitez  du  grand  Addison 
Seulement  ce  qu'il  a  de  bon." 

There  were,  of  course,  not  wanting  voices  of  detraction. 
A  graduate  of  Oxford  attacked  Cato  in  a  pamphlet  entitled 
Mr,  Addison  turned  Tory,  in  which  the  party  spirit  of  the 
play  was  censured.  Dr.  Sewell,  a  well-known  physician  of 
the  day — afterwards  satirised  by  Pope  as  "  Sanguine  Sew- 
ell"— undertook  Addison's  defence,  and  showed  that  he 
owed  his  success  to  the  poetical,  and  not  to  the  political, 
merits  of  his  drama.  A  much  more  formidable  critic  ap- 
peared in  John  Dennis,  a  specimen  of  whose  criticism  on 
Cato  is  preserved  in  Johnson's  Life,  and  who,  it  must  be 
owned,  went  a  great  deal  nearer  the  mark  in  his  judgment 
than  did  Voltaire.     Dennis  had  many  of  the  qualities  of 


122  ADDISON.  [cuap. 

a  good  critic.  Though  his  judgment  was  often  overborne 
by  his  passion,  he  generally  contrived  to  fasten  on  the 
weak  points  of  the  works  which  he  criticised,  and  he  at 
once  detected  the  undramatic  character  of  Cato,  His  rid- 
icule of  the  absurdities  arising  out  of  Addison's  rigid  ob- 
servance of  the  unity  of  place  is  extremely  humorous  and 
quite  unanswerable.  But,  as  usual,  he  spoiled  his  case  by 
the  violence  and  want  of  discrimination  in  his  censure, 
which  betrayed  too  plainly  the  personal  feelings  of  the 
writer.  It  is  said  that  Dennis  was  offended  with  Addison 
for  not  having  adequately  exhibited  his  talents  in  the 
Spectator  when  mention  was  made  of  his  works;  and  he 
certainly  did  complain  in  a  published  letter  that  Addison 
had  chosen  to  quote  a  couplet  from  his  translation  of  Boi- 
leau  in  preference  to  another  from  a  poem  on  the  battle 
of  Eamilies,  which  he  himself  thought  better  of.  But  the 
fact  seems  to  have  been  overlooked  that  Dennis  had  other 
grounds  for  resentment.  In  the  40th  number  of  the  Spec- 
tator the  writer  speaks  of  "a  ridiculous  doctrine  of  mod- 
ern criticism,  that  they  (tragic  writers)  are  obliged  to  an 
equal  distribution  of  rewards  and  punishments,  and  an 
impartial  execution  of  poetical  justice."  This  was  a  plain 
stroke  at  Dennis,  who  was  a  well-known  advocate  of  the 
doctrine;  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  critic's  gall 
was  therefore  expended  on  Addison's  violation  of  the  sup- 
posed rule  in  Cato. 

Looking  at  Cato  from  Voltaire's  point  of  view — which 
was  Addison's  own — and  having  regard  to  the  spirit  of 
elegance  infused  through  every  part  of  it,  there  is  much 
to  admire  in  the  play.  It  is  full  of  pointed  sentences, 
such  as — 

"  'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success, 
But  we'll  do  more,  Sempronius,  we'll  deserve  it." 


c 


VI.]  CATO.  123 

It  has  also  many  fine  descriptive  passages,  the  best  of 
which,  perhaps,  occurs  in  the  dialogue  between  Syphax 
and  Juba  respecting  civilised  and  barbarian  virtues : 

"Believe  me,  prince,  there's  not  an  African 
That  traverses  our  vast  Numidian  deserts 
In  quest  of  prey,  and  lives  upon  his  bow, 
But  better  practises  these  boasted  virtues. 
Coarse  are  his  meals,  the  fortune  of  the  chase ;    • 
Amidst  the  running  streams  he  slakes  his  thirst, 
Toils  all  the  day,  and  at  th*  approach  of  night 
On  the  first  friendly  bank  he  throws  him  down, 
Or  rests  his  head  upon  a  rock  till  morn — 
Then  rises  fresh,  pursues  his  wonted  game, 
And  if  the  following  day  he  chance  to  find 
A  new  repast,  or  an  untasted  spring, 
Blesses  his  stars,  and  thinks  it  luxury."     \ 

/  y , 

(  But  in  all  those  parts  of  the  poem  where  action  and  not 
ornament  is  demanded,  we  seem  to  perceive  the  work  of  a 
poet  who  was  constantly  thinking  of  what  his  characters 
ought  to  say  in  the  situation,  rather  than  of  one  who  was 
actually  living  with  them  in  the  situation  itself.  )  Take 
Sempronius'  speech  to  Syphax,  describing  the  horrors  of 
the  conspirator's  position : 

"  Remember,  Syphax,  we  must  work  in  haste :      -  ( 
Oh  think  what  anxious  moments  pass  between 
The  birth  of  plots  and  their  last  fatal  period. 
Oh  !  'tis  a  dreadful  interval  of  time, 
Filled  up  with  horror  all,  and  big  with  death ! 
Destruction  hangs  on  every  word  we  speak, 
On  every  thought,  till  the  concluding  stroke 
Determines  all,  and  closes  our  design." 

Compare  with  this  the  language  of  real  tragedy,  the  solil- 
oquy of  Brutus  in  Julius  Coesar^  on  which  Addison  appar- 
ently meant  to  improve : 
6* 


124  ADDISON.  [ciiap.vi. 

"Since  Casslus  first  did  wbet  me  against  Caesar 
I  have  not  slept. 

Between  the  acting  of  a  dreadful  thing 
And  the  first  motion,  all  the  interim  is 
Like  a  phantasma,  or  a  hideous  dream : 
The  genius  and  the  mortal  instruments 
Are  then  in  council ;  and  the  state  of  man, 
Like  to  a  little  kingdom,  suffers  then 
The  nature  of  an  insurrection." 

These  two  passages  arc  good  examples  of  the  French 
and  English  ideals  of  dramatic  diction,  though  the  lines 
from  Cato  are  more  figurative  than  is  usual  in  that  play. 
Addison  deliberately  aimed  at  this  French  manner.  **  I 
must  observe,"  says  he,  "  that  when  our  thoughts  are  great 
and  just  they  are  often  obscured  by  the  sounding  phrases, 
hard  metaphors,  and  forced  expressions  in  which  they  are 
clothed.  Shakespeare  is  often  very  faulty  in  this  particu- 
lar." ^  Certainly  he  is ;  but  who  does  not  see  that,  in  spite 
of  his  metaphoric  style,  the  speech  of  Brutus  just  quoted 
is  far  simpler  and  more  natural  than  the  elegant  "  correct- 
ness" of  Sempronius. 

^  Spectator^  No.  39. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Addison's  quarrel  with  pope. 

It  has  been  said  that  with  Cato  the  good  fortune  of  Ad- 
dison reached  its  climax.  After  his  triumph  in  the  thea- 
tre, though  he  filled  great  offices  in  the  State  and  wedded 
"a  noble  wife,"  his  political  success  was  marred  by  dis- 
agreements with  one  of  his  oldest  friends:  while  with  the 
Countess  of  Warwick,  if  we  are  to  believe  Pope,  he  "  mar- 
ried discord."  Added  to  which  he  was  unlucky  enough 
to  incur  the  enmity  of  the  most  poignant  and  vindictive 
of  satiric  poets,  and  a  certain  shadow  has  been  for  ever 
thrown  over  his  character  by  the  famous  verses  on  "  Atti- 
cus."  It  will  be  convenient  in  this  chapter  to  investigate, 
as  far  as  is  possible,  the  truth  as  to  the  quarrel  between 
Pope  and  Addison.  The  latter  has  hitherto  been  at  a  cer- 
tain disadvantage  with  the  public,  since  the  facts  of  the 
case  were  entirely  furnished  by  Pope,  and,  though  his  ac- 
count was  dissected  with  great  acuteness  by  Blackstone  in 
the  Biogra^jhia  Britannica^  the  partizans  of  the  poet  were 
still  able  to  plead  that  his  uncontradicted  statements  could 
not  be  disposed  of  by  mere  considerations  of  probability. 

Pope's  account  of  his  final  rupture  with  Addison  is  re- 
ported by  Spence  as  follows :  "  Philips  seems  to  have 
been  encouraged  to  abuse  me  in  coffee-houses  and  conver- 
sations.   Gildon  wrote  a  thing  about  Wycherley  in  which 


126  ADDISON.  [chap. 

he  had  abused  both  me  and  my  relations  very  grossly. 
Lord  Warwick  himself  told  me  one  day  '  that  it  was  in 
vain  for  me  to  endeavour  to  be  well  with  Mr.  Addison ; 
that  his  jealous  temper  would  never  admit  of  a  settled 
friendship  between  us ;  and,  to  convince  me  of  what  he 
had  said,  assured  me  that  Addison  had  encouraged  Gildon 
to  publish  those  scandals,  and  had  given  him  ten  guineas 
after  they  were  published.'  The  next  day,  while  I  was 
heated  with  what  I  had  heard,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ad- 
dison to  let  him  know  *  that  I  was  not  unacquainted  with 
this  behaviour  of  his ;  that,  if  I  was  to  speak  severely  of 
him  in  return  for  it,  it  should  not  be  in  such  a  dirty  way ; 
that  I  would  rather  tell  him  himself  fairly  of  his  faults  and 
allow  his  good  qualities ;  and  that  it  should  be  something 
in  the  following  manner.'  I  then  subjoined  the  first  sketch 
of  what  has  since  been  called  my  satire  on  Addison.  He 
used  me  very  civilly  ever  after ;  and  never  did  me  any  in- 
justice, that  I  know  of,  from  that  time  to  his  death,  which 
was  about  three  years  after."  ^ 

Such  was  the  story  told  by  Pope  in  his  own  defence 
against  the  charge  that  he  had  written  and  circulated  the 
lines  on  Addison  after  the  latter's  death.  In  confirmation 
of  his  evidence,  and  in  proof  of  his  own  good  feeling  for 
and  open  dealing  with  Addison,  he  inserted  in  the  so-called 
authorised  edition  of  his  correspondence  in  1737  several 
letters  written  apparently  to  Addison,  while  in  what  he 
pretended  to  be  the  surreptitious  edition  of  1735  appeared 
a  letter  to  Craggs,  written  in  July,  I7l5,  which,  as  it  con- 
tained many  of  the  phrases  and  expressions  used  in  the 
character  of  Atticus,  created  an  impression  in  the  mind  of 
the  public  that  both  letter  and  verses  were  written  about 
the  same  time.  No  suspicion  as  to  the  genuineness  of  this 
*  Spence'd  Anecdotes,  pp.  148, 149. 


VII.]  QUARREL  WITH  POPE.  127 

correspondence  was  raised  till  the  discovery  of  the  Caryll 
letters,  which  first  revealed  the  fact  that  most  of  the  pre- 
tended letters  to  Addison  had  been  really  addressed  to 
Caryll ;  that  there  had  been,  in  fact,  no  correspondence 
between  Pope  and  Addison ;  and  that,  therefore,  in  all 
probability,  the  letter  to  Craggs  was  also  a  fictitious  com- 
position, inserted  in  the  so-called  surreptitious  volume  of 
1735  to  establish  the  credit  of  Pope's  own  story. 

We  must  accordingly  put  aside,  as  undeserving  of  cre- 
dence, the  poet's  ingeniously  constructed  charge,  at  any 
rate  in  the  particular  shape  in  which  it  is  preferred,  and 
must  endeavour  to  form  for  ourselves  such  a  judgment  as 
is  rendered  probable  by  the  acknowledged  facts  of  the 
case.  What  is  indisputable  is  that  in  1715  a  rupture  took 
place  between  Addison  and  Pope,  in  consequence  of  the 
injury  which  the  translator  of  the  Iliad  conceived  himself 
to  have  suffered  from  the  countenance  given  to  Tickell's 
rival  performance ;  and  that  in  1723  we  find  the  first  men- 
tion of  the  satire  upon  Addison  in  a  letter  from  Atterbury 
to  Pope.  The  question  is,  what  blame  attaches  to  Addi- 
son for  his  conduct  in  the  matter  of  the  two  translations ; 
and  what  is  the  amount  of  truth  in  Pope's  story  respect- 
ing the  composition  of  the  verses  on  Atticus. 

Pope  made  Addison's  acquaintance  in  the  year  1712. 
On  the  20th  of  December,l7ll,Addison  had  noticed  Pope's 
Art  of  Criticism  in  the  253d  number  of  the  Spectator — 
partly,  no  doubt,  in  consequence  of  his  perception  of  the 
merits  of  the  poem,  but  probably  at  the  particular  instiga- 
tion of  Steele,  whose  acquaintance  with  Pope  may  have 
been  due  to  the  common  friendship  of  both  with  Caryll. 
The  praise  bestowed  on  the  Essay  (as  it  was  afterwards 
called)  was  of  the  finest  and  most  liberal  kind,  and  was 
the  more  welcome  because  it  was  preceded  by  a  censure 


128  ADDISON.  [chap. 

conveyed  with  admirable  delicacy  on  "  the  strokes  of  ill- 
nature"  which  the  poem  contained.  Pope  was  naturally 
exceedingly  pleased,  and  wrote  to  Steele  a  letter  of  thanks 
under  the  impression  that  the  latter  was  the  writer  of  the 
paper,  a  misapprehension  which  Steele  at  once  hastened  to 
correct.  "  The  paper,"  says  he,  "  was  written  by  one  with 
whom  I  will  make  you  acquainted — which  is  the  best  re- 
turn I  can  make  to  you  for  your  favour." 

These  words  were  doubtless  used  by  Steele  in  the  warmth 
of  his  affection  for  Addison,  but  they  also  express  the  gen- 
eral estimation  in  which  the  latter  was  then  held.  He  had 
recently  established  his  man  Button  in  a  coffee-house  in 
Covent  Garden,  where,  surrounded  by  his  little  senate,  Bud- 
gell,  Tickell,  Carey,  and  Philips,  he  ruled  supreme  over 
the  world  of  taste  and  letters.  Something,  no  doubt,  of 
the  spirit  of  the  coterie  pervaded  the  select  assembly.  Ad- 
dison could  always  find  a  word  of  condescending  praise 
for  his  followers  in  the  pages  of  the  Spectator;  he  cor- 
rected their  plays  and  mended  their  prologues ;  and  they 
on  their  side  paid  back  their  patron  with  unbounded  rev- 
erence, perhaps  justifying  the  satirical  allusion  of  the  poet 
to  the  "  applause  "  so  grateful  to  the  ear  of  Atticus : 

"  While  wits  and  Templars  every  sentence  raise, 
And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  praise." 

Pope,  according  to  his  own  account,  was  admitted  to  the 
society,  and  left  it,  as  he  said,  because  he  found  it  sit 
too  far  into  the  night  for  his  health.  It  may,  however, 
be  suspected  that  the  natures  of  the  author  of  the  Dun- 
dad  and  of  the  creator  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  though 
touching  each  other  at  many  points,  were  far  from  nat- 
urally congenial ;  that  the  essayist  was  well  aware  that  the 
man  who  could  write  the  Essay  on  Criticism  had  a  higher 


VII.]  QUARREL  WITH  POPE.  129, 

capacity  for  poetry  than  either  himself  or  any  of  his  fol- 
lowers ;  and  that  the  poet,  on  his  side,  conscious  of  great 
if  undeveloped  powers,  was  inclined  to  resent  the  air  of 
patronage  with  which  he  was  treated  by  the  King  of 
Button's.  Certain  it  is  that  the  praise  of  Pope  by  Addi- 
son in  number  253  of  the  Spectator  is  qualified  (though 
by  no  means  unjustly),  and  that  he  is  not  spoken  of  with 
the  same  warmth  as  Tickell  and  Ambrose  Philips  in  num- 
ber 523.  "Addison,"  said  Pope  to  Spence,  "  seemed  to 
value  himself  more  upon  his  poetry  than  upon  his  prose, 
though  he  wrote  the  latter  with  such  particular  ease,  flu- 
ency, and  happiness."  ^  This  often  happens  ;  and  perhaps 
the  uneasy  consciousness  that,  in  spite  of  the  reputation 
which  his  Campaign  had  secured  for  him,  he  was  really 
inferior  to  such  men  as  John  Philips  and  Ticlvcll,  made 
Addison  touchy  at  the  idea  of  the  entire  circle  being  out- 
shone by  a  new  candidate  for  poetical  fame. 

Whatever  jealousy,  however,  existed  between  the  two 
was  carefully  suppressed  during  the  first  year  of  their  ac- 
quaintance. Pope  showed  Addison  the  first  draft  of  the 
Rape  of  the  Lock,  and,  according  to  Warburton  (whose 
account  must  be  received  with  suspicion),  imparted  to  him 
his  design  of  adding  the  fairy  machinery.  If  Addison 
really  endeavoured  to  dissuade  the  poet  from  making  this 
,  exquisite  addition,  the  latter  was  on  his  side  anxious  that 
Cato,  which,  as  has  been  said,  was  shown  to  him  after  its 
completion,  should  not  be  presented  on  the  stage;  and 
his  advice,  if  tested  by  the  result,  would  have  been  quite 
as  open  as  Addison's  to  an  unfavourable  construction. 
He  wrote,  however,  for  the  play  the  famous  Prologue 
which  Steele  inserted,  with  many  compliments,  in  the 
Guardian,  But  not  long  afterwards  the  effect  of  the 
^  Spence's  Anecdotes^  p.  257. 


^130  ADDISON.  [chap. 

compliments  was  spoiled  by  the  comparatively  cold  men- 
tion of  Pope's  Pastorals  in  the  same  paper  that  contained 
a  glowing  panegyric  on  the  Pastorals  of  Ambrose  Philips. 
In  revenge,  Pope  wrote  his  paper  commending  Philips' 
performance  and  depreciating  his  own,  the  irony  of  which, 
it  is  said,  escaping  the  notice  of  Steele,  was  inserted  by 
him  in  the  Guardian^  much  to  the  amusement  of  Addi- 
son and  more  to  the  disgust  of  Philips. 

The  occasion  on  which  Pope's  pique  against  Addison 
began  to  develop  into  bitter  resentment  is  sufficiently  in- 
dicated by  the  date  which  the  poet  assigns  to  the  first 
letter  in  the  concocted  correspondence — viz.,  July  20,  1713. 
This  letter  (which  is  taken,  with  a  few  slight  alterations  of 
names,  from  one  written  to  Gary  11  on  November  19, 1712) 
opens  as  follows : 

"I  am  more  joyed  at  your, return  than  I  should  be  at  that  of  the 
sun,  so  much  as  I  wish  for  him  this  melancholy  wet  season ;  but  it 
has  a  fate  too  like  yours  to  be  displeasing  to  owls  and  obscure  ani- 
mals who  cannot  bear  his  lustre.  What  puts  me  in  mind  of  these 
night-birds  was  John  Dennis,  whom  I  think  you  are  best  revenged 
upon,  as  the  sun  w^as  in  the  fable  upon  those  bats  and  beastly  birds 
above  mentioned,  only  by  shining  on.  I  am  so  far  from  esteeming 
it  any  misfortune,  that  I  congratulate  you  upon  having  your  share  in 
that  which  all  the  great  men  and  all  the  good  men  that  ever  lived 
have  had  their  part  of — envy  and  calumny.  To  be  uncensured  and 
to  be  obscure  is  the  same  thing.  You  may  conclude  from  what  I 
here  say  that  it  was  never  in  my  thoughts  to  have  offered  you  my 
pen  in  any  direct  reply  to  such  a  critic,  but  only  in  some  little  raillery, 
not  in  defence  of  you,  but  in  contempt  of  him." 

The  allusion  is  to  the  squib  called  Dr,  Norris'  Narra- 
tive of  the  Frenzy  of  John  Dennis,  which,  it  appears,  was 
shown  to  Addison  by  Pope  before  its  appearance,  and 
after  the  publication  of  ^^hich  Addison  caused  Steele  to 
write  to  Lintot  in  the  following:  terms : 


VII.]  QUARREL  WITH  POPE.  131 

''Mr.  Lintot, — Mr.  Addison  desired  me  to  tell  you  that  he  wholly 
disapproves  the  manner  of  treating  Mr.  Dennis  in  a  little  pamphlet 
by  way  of  Mr.  Norris'  account.  When  he  thinks  fit  to  take  notice 
of  Mr.  Dennis'  objections  to  his  writings,  he  will  do  it  in  a  way  Mr. 
Dennis  siiall  have  no  just  reason  to  complain  of.  But  when  the 
papers  above  mentioned  were  oifered  to  be  communicated  to  him  he 
said  he  could  not,  either  in  honour  or  conscience,  be  privy  to  such  a 
treatment,  and  was  sorry  to  hear  of  it. — I  am,  sir,  your  very  humble 
servant." 

Pope's  motive  in  writing  the  pamphlet  was,  as  John- 
son says,  "to  give  his  resentment  full  play  without  ap- 
pearing to  revenge  himself"  for  the  attack  which  Dennis 
had  made  on  his  own  poems.  Addison  doubtless  divined 
the  truth ;  but  the  wording  of  the  letter  which  he  caused 
a  third  person  to  write  to  Lintot  certainly  seems  studious- 
ly offensive  to  Pope,  who  had,  professedly  at  any  rate, 
placed  his  pen  at  his  service,  and  who  had  connected  his 
own  name  with  Cato  by  the  fine  Prologue  he  had  written 
in  its  praise.  Lintot  would  of  course  have  shown  Pope 
Steele's  letter,  and  we  may  be  sure  that  the  lofty  tone 
taken  by  Addison  in  speaking  of  the  pamphlet  would 
have  rankled  bitterly  in  the  poet's  mind. 

At  the  same  time  Philips,  who  was  naturally  enraged 
with  Pope  on  account  of  the  ridicule  with  which  the  lat- 
ter had  covered  his  Pastorals^  endeavoured  to  widen  the 
breach  by  spreading  a  report  that  Pope  had  entered  into 
a  conspiracy  to  write  against  the  Whigs,  and  to  under- 
mine the  reputation  of  Addison.  Addison  seems  to  have 
lent  a  ready  ear  to  these  accusations.  At  any  rate  Pope 
thought  so ;  for  when  the  good  -  natured  painter  Jervas 
sought  to  bring  about  a  composition,  he  wrote  to  him 
(27th  August,  1714); 

*'  What  you  mentioned  of  the  friendly  office  you  endeavoured  to 
do  betwixt  Mr.  Addison  and  me  deserves  acknowledgment  on  my 


132  ADDISON.  [chap. 

part.  You  thoroughly  know  my  regard  to  his  character,  and  my 
propensity  to  testify  it  by  all  ways  in  my  power.  You  as  thorough- 
ly know  the  scandalous  meanness  of  that  proceeding,  which  was  used 
by  Philips,  to  make  a  man  I  so  highly  value  suspect  my  disposition 
towards  him.  But  as,  after  all,  Mr.  Addison  must  be  the  judge  in 
■what  regards  himself,  and  has  seemed  to  be  no  very  just  one  to  me, 
so  I  must  own  to  you  I  expect  nothing  but  civility  from  him,  how 
much  soever  I  wish  for  his  friendship.  As  for  any  offices  of  real 
kindness  or  service  which  it  is  in  his  power  to  do  me,  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  receive  them  from  any  man  who  had  no  better  opinion 
of  my  morals  than  to  think  me  a  party  man,  nor  of  my  temper  than 
to  believe  me  capable  of  maligning  or  envying  another's  reputation 
as  a  poet.  So  I  leave  it  to  time  to  convince  him  as  to  both,  to  show 
him  the  shallow  depths  of  those  half-witted  creatures  who  misin- 
formed him,  and  to  prove  that  I  am  incapable  of  endeavouring  to 
lessen  a  person  whom  I  would  be  proud  to  imitate,  and  therefore 
ashamed  to  flatter.  In  a  word,  Mr.  Addison  is  sure  of  my  respect  at 
all  times,  and  of  my  real  friendship  whenever  he  shall  think  fit  to 
know  me  for  what  I  am." 

It  is  evident,  from  the  tone  of  this  letter,  that  all  the 
materials  for  a  violent  quarrel  were  in  existence.  On  the 
one  side  was  Addison,  with  probably  an  instinctive  dislike 
of  Pope's  character,  intensified  by  the  injurious  reports 
circulated  against  Pope  in  the  "little  senate"  at  Button's; 
with  a  nature  somewhat  cold  and  reserved  ;  and  with  some- 
thing of  literary  jealousy,  partly  arising  from  a  sense  of 
what  was  due  to  his  acknowledged  supremacy,  and  partly 
from  a  perception  that  there  had  appeared  a  very  formida- 
ble "  brother  near  the  throne."  On  the  side  of  Pope  there 
was  an  eager  sensitiveness,  ever  craving  for  recognition 
and  praise,  with  an  abnormal  irritability  prone  to  watch 
for,  and  reluctant  to  forgive,  anything  in  the  shape  of  a 
slight  or  an  injury.  Slights  and  injuries  he  already  deemed 
himself  to  have  received,  and  accordingly,  when  Tickell, 
in  1715,  published  his  translation  of  the  First  Book  of  the 


VII.]  QUARREL  WITH  POPE.  133 

Iliad  at  the  same  time  with  his  own  translation  of  the 
first  four  books,  his  smothered  resentment  broke  into  a 
blaze  at  what  he  imagined  to  be  a  conspiracy  to  damage 
his  poetical  reputation.  Many  years  afterwards,  when  the 
quarrel  between  Addison  and  himself  had  become  notori- 
ous, he  arranged  his  version  of  it  for  the  public  in  a  man- 
ner which  is,  indeed,  far  from  assisting  us  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  truth,  but  which  enables  us  to  understand 
very  clearly  what  was  passing  in  his  own  mind  at  the 
time. 

The  subscription  for  Pope's  translation  of  the  Iliad  was 
set  on  foot  in  November,  1713.  On  the  10th  October, 
1714,  having  two  books  completed,  he  wished  to  submit 
them — or  at  any  rate  he  told  the  public  so  in  1735 — to 
Addison's  judgment.  Tiiis  was  at  a  date  when,  as  he  in- 
formed Spence,  "  there  had  been  a  coldness  between  Mr. 
Addison  and  me"  for  some  time.  According  to  the  letter 
which  appears  in  his  published  correspondence,  he  wrote 
to  Addison  on  the  subject  as  follows : 

"I  have  been  acquainted  by  one  of  my  friends,  who  omits  no 
opportunities  of  gratifying  me,  that  you  have  lately  been  pleased  to 
speak  of  me  in  a  manner  which  nothing  but  the  real  respect  I  have 
for  you  can  deserve.  May  I  hope  that  some  late  malevolences  have 
lost  their  effect  ?  ...  As  to  what  you  have  said  of  me  I  shall  never  be- 
lieve that  the  author  of  Cato  can  speak  one  thing  and  think  another. 
As  a  proof  that  I  account  you  sincere,  I  beg  a  favour  of  you :  it  is  that 
you  would  look  over  the  two  first  books  of  my  translation  of  Homer, 
which  are  in  the  hands  of  Lord  Halifax.  I  am  sensible  how  much 
the  reputation  of  any  poetical  work  will  depend  upon  the  character 
you  give  it.  It  is  therefore  some  evidence  of  the  trust  I  repose  in 
your  good  will  when  I  give  you  this  opportunity  of  speaking  ill  of  me 
with  justice,  and  yet  expect  you  will  tell  me  your  truest  thoughts  at 
the  same  time  you  tell  others  your  most  favourable  ones."  ^ 

^  Pope's  Works^  Elwin  and  Courthope's  edition,  vol.  vi.  p.  408. 


134  ADDISON.  [chap. 

Whether  the  facts  reported  in  this  letter  were  as  fictitious 
as  we  have  a  right  to  assume  the  letter  itself  to  be,  it  is 
impossible  to  say ;  Pope  at  any  rate  told  Spence  the  fol- 
lowing story,  which  is  clearly  meant  to  fall  in  with  the 
evidence  of  the  correspondence : 

"On  his  meeting  me  there  (Button's  Coffee-House)  he  took  mc 
aside  and  said  he  should  be  glad  to  dine  with  me  at  such  a  tavern  if 
I  would  stay  till  those  people  (Budgell  and  Philips)  were  gone.  We 
went  accordingly,  and  after  dinner  Mr.  Addison  said  'that  he  had 
wanted  for  some  time  to  talk  with  me :  that  his  friend  Tickell  had 
formerly,  while  at  Oxford,  translated  the  first  book  of  the  Iliad. 
That  he  now  designed  to  print  it,  and  had  desired  him  to  look  it 
over :  he  must  therefore  beg  that  I  would  not  desire  him  to  look 
over  my  first  book,  because,  if  he  did,  it  would  have  the  air  of  double 
dealing.'  I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  take  it  ill  of  Mr.  Tickell  that 
he  was  going  to  publish  his  translation ;  that  he  certainly  had  as 
much  right  to  translate  any  author  as  myself;  and  that  publishing 
both  was  entering  on  a  fair  stage.  I  then  added  '  that  I  would  not 
desire  him  to  look  over  my  first  book  of  the  Iliad,  because  he  had 
looked  over  Mr.  Tickell's,  but  could  wish  to  have  the  benefit  of  his 
observations  on  my  second,  which  I  had  then  finished,  and  which 
Mr.  Tickell  had  not  touched  upon.'  Accordingly,  I  sent  him  the  sec- 
ond book  the  next  morning ;  and  in  a  few  days  he  returned  it  with 
very  high  commendation.  Soon  after  it  was  generally  known  that 
Mr.  Tickell  w^as  publishing  the  first  book  of  the  Iliad  I  met  Dr. 
Young  in  the  street,  and,  upon  our  falling  into  that  subject,  the  doc- 
tor expressed  a  great  deal  of  surprise  at  Tickell's  having  such  a 
translation  by  him  so  long.  He  said  that  it  was  inconceivable  to 
him,  and  that  there  must  be  some  mistake  in  the  matter;  that  he 
and  Tickell  were  so  intimately  acquainted  at  Oxford  that  each  used 
to  communicate  to  the  other  whatever  verses  they  wrote,  even  to  the 
least  things ;  that  Tickell  could  not  have  been  busied  in  so  long  a 
work  there  without  his  knowing  something  of  the  matter ;  and  that 
he  had  never  heard  a  single  word  of  it  till  this  occasion."  ^ 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that,  after  the  light  that 
^  Spence's  Anecdotes,  p.  146. 


TU.]  QUARREL  WITH  POPE.  136 

has  been  thrown  on  Pope's  character  by  the  detection  of 
the  frauds  he  practised  in  the  publication  of  his  corre- 
spondence, it  is  impossible  to  give  any  credence  to  the 
tales  he  poured  into  Spence's  car,  tending  to  blacken  Addi- 
son's character  and  to  exalt  his  own.  Tickell's  MS.  of  the 
translation  is  in  existence,  and  all  the  evidence  tends  to 
show  that  he  was  really  the  author  of  it.  But  the  above 
statement  may  be  taken  to  reflect  accurately  enough  the 
rage,  the  resentment,  and  the  suspicion  which  disturbed 
Pope's  own  mind  on  the  appearance  of  the  rival  transla- 
tion. We  can  scarcely  doubt  that  it  was  this,  and  this 
alone,  which  roused  him  to  such  glowing  indignation  and 
inspired  him  to  write  the  character  of  Atticus.  When  the 
verses  were  made  public,  after  Addison's  death,  he  proba- 
bly perceived  that  the  public  would  not  consider  the  evi- 
dence for  Addison's  collusion  with  Tickell  to  be  sufficiently 
strong  to  afford  a  justification  for  the  bitterness  of  the  sat- 
ire. It  was  necessary  to  advance  some  stronger  plea  for 
such  retaliation,  especially  as  rumour  confidently  asserted 
that  the  lines  had  not  been  written  till  after  Addison  was 
dead.  Hence  the  story  told  by  Pope  to  Spencc,  proving 
first  that  the  lines  were  not  only  written  during  Addison's 
lifetime,  but  were  actually  sent  to  Addison  himself;  and 
secondly,  that  they  were  only  composed  after  the  strongest 
evidence  had  been  afforded  to  the  poet  of  his  rival's  malig- 
nant disposition  towards  him.  Hence,  too,  the  publication 
in  1735  of  the  letter  to  Craggs,  which,  containing  as  it  did 
many  of  the  phrases  and  metaphors  employed  in  the  verses, 
seemed  to  supply  indirect  evidence  that  both  were  written 
about  the  same  period. 

With  regard  to  Pope's  story,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  it  entirely  breaks  down  on  examination.  He  professes 
to  give  it  on  the  authority  of  Lord  Warwick  himself,  reck- 


136  ADDISON.  [chap. 

oning",  of  course,  that  the  evidence  of  Addison's  own  step- 
son would  be  conclusive  with  the  public.  But  Addison 
was  not  married  to  the  Countess  of  Warwick  till  August, 
1716 ;  and  in  the  previous  May  he  had  bestowed  the  most 
liberal  praise  on  Pope's  translation  in  one  of  his  papers  in 
the  Freeholder,  For  Lord  Warwick,  therefore,  to  argue 
at  that  date  that  Addison's  ^^ jealous  temper  could  never 
admit  of  a  settled  friendship"  between  him  and  Pope  was 
out  of  the  question.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  Lord  Warwick 
told  his  story  to  Pope  before  his  mother's  marriage,  the 
diflSculty  is  equally  great.  The  letter  to  Craggs,  which,  if 
it  was  ever  sent  to  the  latter  at  all,  must  obviously  have 
been  written  in  the  same  "heat"  which  prompted  the  sat- 
ire on  Atticus,  is  dated  July  15,  1715.  This  fits  in  well 
enough  with  the  date  of  the  dispute  about  the  rival  trans- 
lations of  the  Iliad^  but  not  with  Lord  Warwick's  story, 
for  Wycherley,  after  whose  death  Gildon,  we  are  told,  was 
hired  by  Addison  to  abuse  Pope,  did  not  die  till  the  De- 
cember of  that  year. 

Again,  the  internal  evidence  of  the  character  itself 
points  to  the  fact  that,  when  it  was  first  composed,  its 
"  heat "  was  not  caused  by  any  information  the  poet  had 
received  of  a  transaction  between  Addison  and  Gildon. 
The  following  is  the  first  published  version  of  the  satire : 

"  If  Dennis  writes  and  rails  in  furious  pet 
I'll  answer  Dennis  when  I  am  in  debt. 
If  meagre  Gildon  draw  his  meaner  quill, 
I  wish  the  man  a  dinner  and  sit  still. 
But  should  there  One  whose  better  stars  conspire 
To  form  a  bard,  and  raise  a  genius  higher, 
Blest  with  each  talent  and  each  art  to  please, 
And  born  to  live,  converse,  and  write  with  ease ; 
Should  such  a  one,  resolved  to  reign  alone,  * 

Bear,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne,    . 


VII.]  QUARREL  WITH   POPE.  IZI 

View  liim  with  jealous  yet  with  scornful  eyes, 
Hate  him  for  arts  that  caused  himself  to  rise, 
Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer. 
And  without  sneering  teach  the  rest  to  sneer ; 
Alike  reserved  to  blame  or  to  commend, 
A  timorous  foe  and  a  suspicious  friend. 
Fearing  e'en  fools,  by  flatterers  besieged. 
And  so  obliging  that  he  ne'er  obliged ; 
Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike. 
Just  hit  the  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike. 
Who  when  two  tvits  on  rival UJiemes  contest^ 
Approves  of  both,  but  likes  the  worst  the  best : 
Like  Cato,  give  his  little  senate  laws 
And  sits  attentive  to  his  own  applause ; 
While  wits  and  templars  every  sentence  praise 
And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  praise : 
Who  would  not  laugh  if  such  a  man  there  be  ? 
Who  would  not  weep  if  Addison  were  he  ?" 

There  is  sufficient  corroborative  evidence  to  allow  us  to  be- 
lieve that  these  lines  were  actually  written,  as  Pope  says, 
during  Addison's  lifetime ;  and  if  they  were,  the  charac- 
ter of  the  satire  would  naturally  suggest  that  its  motive 
was  Addison's  supposed  conduct  in  the  matter  of  the  two 
translations  of  the  Iliad.  There  is  nothing  in  them  to. 
indicate  any  connection  in  the  poet's  mind  between  Gil- 
don  and  Addison ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  alhision  to  the 
*'two  wits"  shows  the  special  grievance  that  formed  the 
basis,  in  his  imagination,  of  the  whole  character.  After- 
wards we  find  that  "meaner  quill"  is  replaced  by  ^^ venal 
quill ;"  and  the  couplet  about  the  rival  translations  is  sup- 
pressed. The  inference  is  plain.  When  Pope  was  charged 
with  having  written  the  character  after  Addison's  death, 
he  found  himself  obliged,  in  self-defence,  to  furnish  a 
moral  justification  for  the  satire ;  and,  after  his  own  un- 
fortunate manner,  ho  proceeded  to  build  up  for  himself  a 


^ 


138  ADDISON.  [chap.  vii. 

position  on  a  number  of  systematic  falsehoods.  His  story 
was  probably  so  far  true  that  the  character  was  really 
written  while  Addison  was  alive ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
not  unreasonable  to  conclude  that  the  entire  statement 
about  Gildon  and  Lord  Warwick  is  fabulous ;  and,  as  the 
assertion  that  the  lines  were  sent  to  Addison  immediate- 
ly after  their  composition  is  associated  with  these  myths, 
this,  too,  may  fairly  be  dismissed  as  equally  undeserving  of 
belief. 

As  to  the  truth  of  the  character  of  Atticus,  however, 
it  by  no  means  follows,  because  Pope's  account  of  its  ori- 
gin is  false,  that  the  portrait  itself  is  altogether  untrue. 
The  partizans  of  Addison  endeavour  to  prove  that  it  is 
throughout  malicious  and  unjust.  But  no  one  can  fail  to 
perceive  that  the  character  itself  is  a  very  extraordinary 
picture  of  human  nature ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  Addison  was  superior  to  the  weaknesses  of  his 
kind.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  independent  evidence  to 
show  that  he  w^as  strongly  influenced  by  that  literary  jeal- 
ousy which  makes  the  groundwork  of  the  ideal  character. 
This  the  piercing  intelligence  of  Pope  no  doubt  plainly 
discerned  ;  his  inflamed  imagination  built  up  on  this  foun- 
dation the  wonderful  fabric  that  has  ever  since  continued 
to  enchant  the  ^vorld.  The  reader  who  is  acquainted  with 
his  own  heart  will  probably  not  find  much  difficulty  in 
determining  what  elements  in  the  character  are  derived 
from  the  substantial  truth  of  nature,  and  what  are  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  exaggerated  perceptions  of  Genius. 


^^  OP  THB        • 

[UNIVERSITY] 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   LAST   YEARS   OF  HIS   LIFE. 

The  representation  of  Cato  on  the  stage  was  a  turning 
point  in  the  political  fortunes  of  the  Whigs.  In  the  same 
month  the  Queen  announced,  on  the  meeting  of  Parlia- 
ment, the  signature  of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht.  Whatever 
were  the  merits  or  demerits  of  the  policy  embodied  in  this 
instrument,  it  offered  many  points  of  attack  to  a  compact 
and  vigorous  Opposition.  The  most  salient  of  these  was, 
perhaps,  the  alleged  sacrifice  of  British  (^mmercial  inter- 
ests through  the  incompetence  or  corruption  of  the  nego- 
tiators, and  on  this  question  the  Whigs  accordingly  raised 
vehement  and  reiterated  debates.  Addison  aided  his  po- 
litical friends  with  an  ingenious  pamphlet  on  the  subject, 
called  The  late  Trial  and  Conviction  of  Count  Tariffs  con- 
taining a  narrative  of  the  lawsuit  between  the  Count  and 
Goodman  Fact,  which  is  written  with  much  spirit  and  pleas- 
antry. It  is  said  that  he  also  took  the  field  in  answer  to 
the  Address  to  the  Queen  from  the  magistrates  of  Dun- 
kirk, wherein  Iler  Majesty  was  requested  to  waive  the 
execution  of  the  article  in  the  Treaty  providing  for  the 
demolition  of  the  harbour  and  fortifications  of  that  town  ; 
but  if  he  wrote  on  the  subject  the  pamphlet  has  not  been 
preserved  by  Tickell.  His  old  friend  Steele  was  mean- 
while involving  himself  in  difficulties  through  the  heat 
7 


140  ADDISOK  [chap. 

and  impetuosity  of  his  party  passions.  After  the  pain- 
ful abstinence  from  partizanship  imposed  on  him  by  tlie 
scheme  of  the  Tatler  and  Spectator  he  had  founded  the 
Guardian  on  similar  lines,  and  had  carried  it  on  in  a  non- 
political  spirit  up  to  the  128th  number,  when  his  Whig- 
feelings  could  restrain  themselves  no  longer,  and  he  in- 
serted a  letter  signed  by  "An  English  Tory,"  demanding 
the  immediate  demolition  of  Dunkirk.  Soon  afterwards  he 
published  a  pamphlet  called  The  Crisis,  to  excite  the  ap- 
prehensions of  the  nation  with  regard  to  the  Protestant 
succession,  and,  dropping  the  Guardian,  started  the  Un(/- 
liskman,  a  political  paper  of  extreme  Whig  views.  He 
further  irritated  the  Tory  majority  in  Parliament  by  sup- 
porting the  proposal  of  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  as  Speaker 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  in  a  speech  violently  reflecting 
on  the  rejected  Bill  for  a  Treaty  of  Commerce  with  France. 
A  complaint  was  brought  before  the  House  against  the 
Crisis,  and  two  numbers  of  the  Englishman,  and  Steele 
was  ordered  to  attend  and  answer  for  his  conduct.  After 
the  charge  had  been  preferred  against  him,  he  asked  for 
time  to  arrange  his  defence ;  and  this  being  granted  him, 
after  a  warm  debate,  he  reappeared  in  his  place  a  few  days 
later,  and  made  a  long  and  able  speech,  which  is  said  to 
have  been  prepared  for  him  by  Addison,  acting  under  the 
instructions  of  the  Kit-Kat  Club.  It  did  not,  however, 
save  him  from  being  expelled  from  the  House. 

Addison  himself  stood  aloof,  as  far  as  was  possible,  from 
the  heated  atmosphere  of  party,  occupying  his  time  chiefly 
with  the  execution  of  literary  designs.  In  1713  he  began 
a  work  on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity,  which  he  never 
finished,  and  in  the  last  half  of  the  year  1714  he  com- 
pleted the  eighth  volume  of  the  Spectator.  So  moderate 
was  his  political  attitude  that  Bolingbrokc  was  not  with- 


Till.]  THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  HIS  LIFE.  141 

out  hopes  of  bringing  bim  over  to  tbe  Tory  side ;  an  in- 
terview, bowever,  convinced  bim  tbat  it  was  useless  to 
dream  of  converting  Addison's  steady  constitutional  prin- 
ciple to  bis  own  ambitious  schemes. 

The  condition  of  the  Tory  party  was  indeed  rapidly  be- 
coming desperate.  Its  leaders  were  at  open  variance  with 
each  other.  Oxford,  a  veteran  intriguer,  was  desirous  of 
combining  with  the  Whigs  ;  the  more  daring  and  brill- 
iant Bolingbroke  aimed  at  the  restoration  of  tlio  exiled 
Stuarts.  Ilis  influence,  joined  to  natural  family  affec- 
tion, prevailed  with  the  Queen,  who  was  persuaded  to  de- 
prive Oxford  of  the  Treasurer's  staff.  But  her  health 
was  undermined,  and  a  furious  and  indecent  dispute  be- 
tween the  two  Tory  leaders  in  her  own  presence  com- 
pletely prostrated  her.  She  was  carried  from  the  Coun- 
cil, and  sinking  into  a  state  of  unconsciousness  from  which 
she  never  recovered,  died  on  the  1st  of  August,  1714. 

Meantime  the  Whigs  were  united  and  prepared.  On  the 
meeting  of  the  Council,  George  I.  was  proclaimed  King 
without  opposition  :  Lord-Justices  were  authorised  to  ad- 
minister affairs  provisionally,  and  Addison  was  appointed 
their  Secretary.  It  is  said,  though  on  no  good  authority, 
tbat  having,  in  discharge  of  bis  office,  to  announce  to 
George  I.  tbe  death  of  the  Queen,  Addison  was  embar- 
rassed in  bis  choice  of  phrases  for  the  occasion,  and  that 
the  duty  to  which  the  best  writer  in  tbe  Spectator  proved 
unequal  was  performed  by  a  common  clerk.  Had  Addi- 
son been  quite  unfamiliar  with  public  life  this  story  would 
have  been  more  credible,  but  bis  experience  in  Ireland 
must  have  made  bim  acquainted  with  tbe  peculiarities  of 
oflacial  English ;  and  some  surviving  specimens  of  bis  pub- 
lic correspondence  prove  bim  to  have  been  a  suflScient 
master  in  tbe  art  of  saying  nothing  in  a  magnificent  way. 


142  ADDISON.  [chap. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  King  in  England,  the  Earl  of  Sun- 
derland was  appointed  to  succeed  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury 
as  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  he  once  more  offered 
Addison  the  post  of  Chief  Secretary.  In  that  office  the 
latter  continued  till  the  Earl's  resignation  of  the  Lord- 
Lieutenancy  in  August,  I7l5.  It  would  appear  to  have 
been  less  lucrative  to  him  than  when  he  previously  held 
it,  and,  indeed,  than  he  himself  had  expected  ;  the  cause 
of  tins  deficiency  being,  as  he  states,  "his  Lordship's  ab- 
sence from  that  kingdom,  and  his  not  being  qualified  to 
give  out  military  commissions."  ^  He  is  said,  neverthe- 
less, to  have  shown  the  strictest  probity  and  honour  in  his 
official  dealings,  and  some  of  his  extant  correspondence 
(the  authenticity  of  which,  however,  is  guaranteed  only 
by  the  unsatisfactory  testimony  of  Curll)  shows  him  to 
have  declined,  in  a  very  high-minded  manner,  a  present 
of  money,  evidently  intended  to  secure  his  interest  on  be- 
half of  an  applicant.  He  seems  to  have  been  in  London 
almost  as  much  as  in  Dublin  during  his  tenure  of  office, 
and  he  found  time  in  the  midst  of  his  public  business  to 
compose  another  play  for  the  stage. 

There  appears  to  be  no  good  reason  for  doubting  that 
The  Drummer  was  the  work  of  Addison.  It  is  true 
that  it  was  not  included  by  Tickell  in  his  edition  of  his 
friend's  writings ;  and  Steele,  in  the  letter  to  Congreve 
which  he  prefixed  to  the  second  edition  of  the  play,  only 
says  that  Addison  sent  for  him  when  he  was  a  patentee 
of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  and  told  him  "  that  a  gentleman 
then  in  the  room  had  written  a  play  which  he  was  sure 
T  should  like,  but  it  was  to  be  a  secret;  and  he  knew  I 
would  take  as  much  pains,  since  he  recommended  it,  as 
I  would  for  him."  But  Steele  could,  under  such  circuin- 
^  Addison's  Memorial  to  the  Kiii^. 


VIII.]  THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  HIS  LIFE.  143 

stances,  hardly  have  been  deceived  as  to  the  real  author- 
ship of  the  play,  and  if  confirmatory  evidence  is  required, 
it  is  furnished  by  Theobald,  who  tells  us  that  Addison  in- 
formed him  that  he  had  taken  the  character  of  Yelhim, 
the  steward,  from  Fletcher's  Scornful  Lady.  Addison 
was  probably  not  anxious  himself  to  assert  his  right  of 
paternity  to  the  play.  It  was  acted  at  Drury  Lane,  and, 
the  name  of  the  author  being  unknown,  was  coldly  re- 
ceived ;  a  second  performance  of  it  after  Addison's  death, 
when  the  authorship  was  proclaimed,  was  naturally  more 
successful  ;  but,  in  fact,  the  piece  is,  like  Cato^  a  standing 
proof  of  Addison's  deficiency  in  dramatic  genius.  The 
plot  is  poor  and  trivial ;  nor  does  the  dialogue,  though  it 
shows  in  many  passages  traces  of  its  author's  peculiar  vein 
of  humour,  make  amends  by  its  brilliancy  for  the  tamc- 
ness  of  the  dramatic  situation. 

He  was  soon,  however,  called  upon  to  employ  his  pen 
on  a  task  better  suited  to  his  powers.  In  September, 
1715,  there  was  a  rising  in  Scotland  and  in  the  North  of 
England  on  behalf  of  the  Pretender.  The  rebellion  w^as 
put  down  with  little  difficulty,  but  the  position  of  the 
House  of  Brunswick  was  far  more  precarious  than  on  the 
surface  it  seemed  to  be.  It  could  count,  no  doubt,  on  the 
loyalty  of  a  House  of  Commons  elected  when  the  Tories 
were  momentarily  stunned  by  the  death  of  Queen  Anne, 
on  the  faith  of  the  army,  and  on  the  support  of  the  mon- 
eyed interest.  On  the  other  hand,  the  two  most  important 
classes  in  the  kingdom — the  landed  proprietors  and  the 
clergy — were  generally  hostile  to  the  new  regime^  and  the 
influence  exercised  by  the  latter  was  of  course  exceedingly 
great  in  days  when  the  pulpit  was  still  the  chief  instru- 
ment in  the  formation  of  public  opinion.  The  weight  of 
some  powerful  writer  was  urgently  needed  on  the  Whig 


144  ADDISON.  [chap. 

side,  and  Addison — avIio  in  the  preceding  August  had  been 
obliged  to  vacate  his  office  of  Secretary  in  consequence  of 
the  resignation  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant — was  by  common 
consent  indicated  as  the  man  best  qualified  for  the  task. 
There  were  indeed  hot  political  partizans  who  questioned 
liis  capacity.  Steele  s^id  that  "  the  Government  had  made 
choice  of  a  lute  when  they  ought  to  have  taken  a  trum- 
-pet."  But  if  by  the  "  trumpet "  he  was  modestly  allud- 
ing to  himself,  it  may  very  well  be  doubted  if  the  ob- 
jects of  the  Government  would  have  been  attained  by  em- 
ploying the  services  of  the  author  of  the  Englishman, 
What  was  wanted  was  not  party  invective,  but  the  calm 
persuasiveness  of  reason  ;  a  pen  that  could  ^:jro2;e  to  all 
Tory  country  gentlemen  and  thoroughgoing  High  Church- 
men that  the  Protestant  succession  was  indispensable  to 
the  safety  of  the  principles  which  each  respectively  con- 
sidered to  be  of  vital  importance.  This  was  the  task  which 
lay  before  Addison,  and  which  he  accomplished  with  con- 
summate skill  in  the  Freeholder. 

The  name  of  the  new  paper  was  selected  by  him  in  or- 
der to  suggest  that  property  was  the  basis  of  liberty  ;  and 
his  main  argument,  Avhich  he  introduces  under  constantly 
varying  forms,  is  that  there  could  be  no  safety  for  property 
under  a  line  of  monarchs  who  claimed  the  dispensing  pow- 
er, and  no  security  for  the  liberties  of  the  Church  under 
kings  of  an  alien  religion.  Li  order  to  secure  variety  of 
treatment,  the  exact  social  position  of  the  Freeholder  is 
not  defined  : 

"  xU  the  same  time  that  I  declare  I  am  a  freeholder  I  do  not  ex- 
clude myself  from  any  other  title.  A  freeholder  may  be  either  a 
voter  or  a  knight  of  the  shire,  a  wit  or  a  fox-hunter,  a  scholar  or  a 
soldier,  an  alderman  or  a  courtier,  a  patriot  or  a  stock-jobber.  But 
I  choose  to  be  distinguished  by  this  denomination,  as  the  freeholder 


VIII.]  THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  HIS  LIFE.  145 

is  the  basis  of  all  other  titles.  Dignities  may  be  grafted  upon  it, 
but  this  is  the  substantial  stock  that  conveys  to  them  their  life, 
taste,  and  beauty,  and  without  which  they  are  blossoms  that  would 
fall  away  with  every  shake  of  wind."  ^ 

By  this  means  lie  was  able  to  impart  liveliness  to  liis 
theme,  which  he  diversifies  by  philosophical  disquisition ; 
by  good-natured  satire  on  the  prejudices  of  the  country 
gentlemen ;  by  frequent  papers  on  his  favourite  subject, 
"  the_fair__se]^;"  and  by  occasional  glances  at  literature. 
Though  his  avowed  object  was  to  prove  the  superiority  of 
the  Whig  over  the  Tory  theory  of  the  Constitution,  his 
"native  moderation"  never  deserts  him,  and  he  often  lets 
his  disgust  at  the  stupidity  of  faction,  and  his  preference 
for  social  over  political  writing,  appear  in  the  midst  of  his 
argument.  The  best  papers  in  the  series  are  undoubtedly 
the  "  Memoirs  of  a  Preston  Kebel "  and  the  "  Tory  Fox- 
hunter,"  both  of  which  are  full  of  the  exquisite  humour 
that  distinguishes  the  sketches  of  Sir  Roger  de  Cover- 
Icy.  The  Freeholder  was  only  continued  for  six  months 
(December  23,  1715,  to  June  9,  1716),  being  published 
every  Friday  and  Monday,  and  being  completed  in  fifty-five 
numbers.  In  the  last  number  the  essayist  described  the 
nature  of  his  work,  and  gave  his  reasons  for  discontinuing 
it: 

"It  would  not  be  difficult  to  continue  a  paper  of  this  kind  if  one 
were  disposed  to  resume  the  same  subjects  and  weary  out  the  reader 
with  the  same  thoughts  in  a  different  phrase,  or  to  ramble  through 
the  cause  of  Whig  and  Tory  without  any  certain  aim  or  method  in 
every  particular  discourse.  Such  -a  practice  in  political  writers  is 
like  that  of  some  preachers  taken  notice  of  by  Dr.  South,  who,  being 
prepared  only  upon  two  or  three  points  of  doctrine,  run  the  same 
round  with  their  audience  from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other,  and 
are  always  forced  to  tell  them,  by  way  of  preface,  '  These  are  par- 

^  Free/wider y  No.  1. 


146  ADDISON.  [chap. 

ticulars  of  so  great  importance  that  tlicy  cannot  be  sufficiently  incul- 
cated.' To  avoid  this  method  of  tautology,  I  have  endeavoured  to 
make  every  paper  a  distinct  essay  upon  some  particular  subject, 
without  deviating  into  points  foreign  to  the  tenor  of  each  discourse. 
They  are,  indeed,  most  of  them  essays  upon  Government,  but  with  a 
view  to  the  present  situation  of  affairs  in  Great  Britain,  so  that,  if 
they  have  the  good  fortune  to  live  longer  than  works  of  this  nature 
generally  do,  future  readers  may  see  ia  them  the  complexion  of  the 
times  in  which  they  were  written.  However,  as  there  is  no  employ- 
ment so  irksome  as  that  of  transcribing  out  of  one's  self  next  to 
that  of  transcribing  out  of  others,  I  shall  let  drop  the  work,  since 
there  do  not  occur  to  me  any  material  points  arising  from  our  pres- 
ent situation  which  I  have  not  already  touched  upon." 

It  was  probably  in  reward  for  his  services  in  publishing 
the  Freeholder  that  he  was  made  one  of  the  Commission- 
ers for  Trade  and  Colonies.  Soon  after  his  appointment 
to  this  office  he  married  Charlotte,  Countess  of  Warwick, 
daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Myddleton,  of  Chirk  Castle, 
Denbighshire.  His  attachment  to  the  Countess  is  said  to 
have  begun  years  before ;  and  this  seems  not  unlikely,  for, 
though  the  story  of  his  having  been  tutor  to  the  young- 
Earl  is  obviously  groundless,  two  charming  letters  of  his 
to  the  latter  are  in  existence  which  show  that  as  early  as 
1708  he  took  a  strong  interest  in  the  family.  These  let- 
ters, which  are  written  entirely  on  the  subject  of  birds, 
may,  of  course,  have  been  inspired  merely  by  an  affection 
for  the  boy  himself;  but  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  writer  felt  a  yet  stronger  interest  in  the  mother, 
though  her  indifference,  or  his  natural  diffidence,  led  him 
to  disguise  his  feelings ;  perhaps,  indeed,  the  episode  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley's  love  passage  with  the  cruel  widow  ; 
may  be  founded  on  personal  experience.  We  have  seen  \ 
him  in  1711  reporting  to  a  friend  that  the  loss  of  his 
place  had  involved  that  of  his  mistress.     Possibly  the  same 


VIII.]  THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  HIS  LIFE.  147 

liard-hearted  mistress  condescended  to  relent  when  she  saw 
her  former  lover  once  more  on  the  road  to  high  State  pre- 
ferment. 

Eeport  says  that  the  marriage  was  not  a  happy  one. 
The  tradition,  however,  like  so  many  others  about  the 
same  person,  seems  to  have  been  derived  from  Pope,  who, 
in  his  Epistle  to  Arhuthnot,  congratulates  himself — with 
an  evident  glance  at  Addison  —  on  "  not  marrying  discord 
with  a  noble  wife."  An  innuendo  of  this  kind,  and  com- 
ing from  such  a  quarter,  ought  not  to  be  accepted  as  evi- 
dence without  some  corroboration ;  and  the  only  corrobo- 
ration which  is  forthcoming  is  a  letter  of  Lady  Mary  Wort- 
ley  Montagu,  who  writes  from  Constantinople  in  I7l7: 
*'  I  received  the  news  of  Mr.  Addison's  being  declared  Sec- 
retary of  State  with  the  less  surprise  in  that  I  know  the 
post  Avas  offered  to  him  before.  At  that  time  he  declined 
it;  and  I  really  believe  he  would  have  done  well  to  decline 
it  now.  Such  a  post  as  that  and  such  a  wife  as  the  Count- 
ess do  not  seem  to  be,  in  prudence,  eligible  for  a  man  that 
is  asthmatic,  and  we  may  see  the  day  when  he  will  be  glad 
to  resign  them  both."  Lady  Mary,  however,  does  not  hint 
that  Addison  was  then  living  unhappily  with  his  wife ;  her 
expressions  seem  to  be  inspired  rather  by  her  own  sharp 
wit  and  a  personal  dislike  of  the  Countess  than  by  any 
knowledge  of  discord  in  the  household.  On  the  other 
hand,  Addison  speaks  of  his  wife  in  a  way  which  is  scarce- 
ly consistent  with  what  Johnson  calls  "  uncontradicted  re- 
port." On  March  20th,  1718,  he  writes  to  Swift:  "  When- 
ever you  see  England  your  company  will  be  the  most 
acceptable  in  the  world  at  Holland  House,  where  you  are 
highly  esteemed  by  Lady  Warwick  and  the  young  Lord." 
A  henpecked  husband  would  hardly  have  invited  the  Dean 
of  St.  Patrick's  to  be  the  witness  of  his  domestic  discom- 


148  ADDISON.  [chap. 

fort.  Nor  do  the  terms  of  his  will,  dated  only  a  month 
before  his  death,  indicate  that  he  regarded  his  wife  with 
feelings  other  than  those  of  affection  and  respect :  *'  I  do 
make  and  ordain  my  said  dear  wife  executrix  of  this  my 
last  will ;  and  I  do  appoint  her  to  be  guardian  of  my  dear 
child,  Charlotte  Addison,  until  she  shall  attain  her  age  of 
one-and-twenty,  being  well  assured  that  she  will  take  due 
care  of  her  education,  and  provide  for  her  in  case  she  live 
to  be  married."  On  the  whole,  it  seems  reasonable  to  put 
positive  evidence  of  this  kind  against  those  vague  rumours 
of  domestic  unhappiness  ^vhich,  however  unsubstantial,  are 
so  easily  propagated  and  so  readily  believed. 

In  April,  1717,  the  dissensions  between  the  two  sections 
of  the  Whig  Cabinet,  led  respectively  by  Townshend  and 
Sunderland,  reached  a  climax,  and  Townshend  being  worst- 
ed, Sunderland  became  Prime  Minister.  He  at  once  ap- 
pointed his  old  subordinate  one  of  the  Secretaries  of  State, 
and  Addison  filled  the  office  for  eleven  months.  "  It  is 
universally  confessed,"  says  Johnson,  "  that  he  was  unequal 
to  the  duties  of  his  place."  Here  again  the  "universal 
confession"  dwindles  on  examination  to  something  very 
difrerent.  As  far  as  his  conduct  in  administration  required 
to  be  defended  in  Parliament,  his  inaptitude  for  the  place 
was  no  doubt  conspicuous.  He  had  been  elected  member 
of  Parliament  for  Lostwithiel  in  1708,  and  when  that  elec- 
tion was  set  aside  he  was  chosen  for  Malraesbury,  a  seat 
which  he  retained  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  made,  how- 
ever, but  one  effort  to  address  the  House,  when,  being  con- 
fused with  the  cheers  which  greeted  him,  he  was  unable  to 
complete  his  sentence,  and,  resuming  his  seat,  never  again 
opened  his  lips. 

But  in  other  respects  the  evidence  of  his  ofiicial  inca- 
pacity seems  to  proceed  solely  from  his  enemies.      "Mr. 


VIII.]  THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  HIS  LIFE.  149 

Addison,"  said  Pope  to  Spence,  "could  not  give  out  a 
common  order  in  writing  from  his  endeavouring  always  to 
word  it  too  finely.  He  bad  too  beautiful  an  imagination 
to  make  a  man  of  business."  *  Copies  of  official  letters 
and  despatches  written  by  Addison  are,  however,  in  exist- 
ence, and  prove  him  to  have  been  a  sufficient  master  of 
a  business  style,  so  that,  though  his  lack  of  ability  as  a 
speaker  may  well  have  impaired  his  efficiency  as  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Government,  Johnson  has  little  warrant  for  say- 
ing that  ^''finding  by  experience  his  own  inahilitij,  he  was 
forced  to  solicit  his  dismission  with  a  pension  of  fifteen 
hundred  pounds  a  year."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Addison's 
own  petition  to  the  King  and  his  private  correspondence 
prove  with  sufficient  clearness  that  his  resignation  was 
caused  entirely  by  his  failing  health  ;  while  the  congratu- 
latory Latin  verses  addressed  to  him  by  Vincent  Bourne, 
on  his  recovery  from  one  of  his  seizures  of  asthma,  show 
that  his  illness  was  of  the  most  serious  nature. 

He  resigned  his  post,  however,  in  March,  1718,  with 
cheerful  alacrity,  and  appears  to  have  looked  forward  to 
an  active  period  of  literary  work,  for  we  are  told  that  he 
meditated  a  tragedy  on  the  death  of  Socrates,  as  well  as 
the  completion  of  his  book  on  the  Evidences  of  Christian- 
ity. But  this  was  not  to  be ;  the  exigencies  of  the  Minis- 
try in  the  following  year  demanded  the  services  of  his  pen. 
A  Peerage  Bill,  introduced  by  Sunderland,  the  effect  of 
which  was  to  cause  the  sovereign  to  divest  himself  of  his 
prerogative  of  creating  fresh  peers,  had  been  vehemently 
attacked  by  Steele  in  a  pamphlet  called  the  Plebeian,  pub- 
lished March  14,  1719,  which  Addison  undertook  to  an- 
swer in  the  Old  Whig  (March  19).  The  Plebeian  returned 
to  the  attack  with  spirit  and  with  some  acrimony  in  two 
1  Spence's  Anecdotes,  p.  175. 


150  ADDISON.  [ciiAP. 

numbers  published  March  29th  and  30th,  and  the  Old 
Whig  made  a  somewhat  contemptuous  reply  on  April  2d. 
*' Every  reader,"  says  Johnson,  "surely  must  regret  that 
these  two  illustrious  friends,  after  so  many  years  passed  in 
confidence  and  endearment,  in  unity  of  interest,  conform- 
ity of  opinion,  and  fellowship  of  study,  should  finally  part 
in  acrimonious  opposition.  Such  a  controversy  w^as  *  Bel- 
lum  plusquam  civile,''  as  Lucan  expresses  it.  Why  could 
not  faction  find  other  advocates?  But  among  the  uncer- 
tainties of  the  human  state  we  are  doomed  to  number  the 
instability  of  friendship." 

The  rupture  seems  the  more  painful  when  we  find  Steele, 
in  his  third  and  last  Plebeian,  published  April  6th,  taunt- 
ing his  opponent  with  his  tardiness  in  taking  the  field,  at 
the  very  moment  when  his  former  friend  and  school-fel- 
low— unknown  to  him  of  course — was  dying.  Asthma, 
the  old  enemy  that  had  driven  Addison  from  oflSce,  had 
returned;  dropsy  supervened,  and  he  died,  l7th  June, 
1719,  at  Holland  House,  at  the  early  age  of  forty-seven. 
We  may  imagine  the  grief,  contrition,  and  remorse  that 
must  have  torn  the  affectionate  heart  of  Steele  when  he 
had  found  he  had  been  vexing  the  last  hours  of  one  whom, 
in  spite  of  all  their  differences,  he  loved  so  well.  He  had 
always  regarded  Addison  with  almost  religious  reverence, 
which  did  not  yield  even  to  acts  of  severity  on  his  friend's 
part  that  would  have  estranged  the  feelings  of  men  of  a 
disposition  less  simple  and  impulsive.  Addison  had  once 
lent  him  £1000  to  build  a  house  at  Hampton  Court,  in- 
structing his  lawyer  to  recover  the  amount  when  due.  On 
Steele's  failure  to  repay  the  money,  his  friend  ordered  the 
house  and  furniture  to  be  sold  and  the  balance  to  be  paid 
to  Steele,  writing  to  him  at  the  same  time  that  he  had 
taken  the  step  to  arouse  him  from  his  lethargy.     B.Vic- 


Tin.]  THE  LAST  YEARS   OF  HIS  LIFE.  151 

tor,  the  actor,  a  friend  of  Steele,  who  is  the  authority  for 
the  story,  says  that  Steele  accepted  the  reproof  with  "phil- 
osophical composure,"  and  that  the  incident  caused  no 
diminution  in  their  friendship.  Political  differences  at 
last  produced  a  coldness  between  them,  and  in  I7l7  Steele 
writes  to  his  wife,  *'  I  ask  no  favour  of  Mr.  Secretary  Addi- 
son." Great  must  Ijave  been  the  revulsion  of  feeling  in  a 
man  of  his  nature  when  he  learned  that  death  had  now 
rendered  impossible  the  renewal  of  the  old  associations. 
All  the  love,  admiration,  and  enthusiasm  for  Addison, 
which  his  heart  and  memory  still  preserved,  broke  out  in 
the  letter  to  Congreve  which  he  prefixed  to  The  Drum- 
mer. 

Of  the  closing  scene  of  Addison's  life  we  know  little  ex- 
cept on  rumour.  A  report  was  current  in  Johnson's  time, 
and  reached  the  antiquary  John  Nichols  at  the  close  of  the 
last  century,  that  his  life  was  shortened  by  over-drinking. 
But  as  usual  the  scandal,  when  traced  to  its  source,  seems 
to  originate  with  Pope,  who  told  Spence  that  he  himself 
was  once  one  of  the  circle  at  Button's,  and  left  it  because 
he  found  that  their  prolonged  sittings  were  injuring  his 
health.  It  is  highly  probable  that  Addison's  phlegmatic 
temperament  required  to  be  aroused  by  wine  into  conver- 
sational activity,  and  that  he  was  able  to  drink  more  than 
most  of  his  companions  without  being  affected  by  it ;  but  to 
suppose  that  he  indulged  a  sensual  appetite  to  excess  is  con- 
trary alike  to  all  that  we  know  of  his  character  and  to  the 
direct  evidence  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  who,  writing  of  the  first 
performance  of  Cato^  says :  "  I  was  present  with  Mr.  Addison 
and  a  few  more  friends  in  a  side  box,  where  we  had  a  table 
and  two  or  three  flasks  of  Burgundy  and  champagne,  with 
which  the  author  (who  is  a  very  sober  man)  thought  it 
necessary  to  support  his  spirits." 


152  ADDISON.  [chap.  viii. 

Another  story,  told  on  the  same  questionable  authority, 
represents  him  as  having  sent  on  his  death-bed  for  Gay,  and 
asked  his  forgiveness  for  some  injury  which  he  said  he  had 
done  him,  but  which  he  did  not  specify.  From  the  more 
trustworthy  report  of  Young  we  learn  that  he  asked  to  see 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  and  said  to  him,  "  See  in  what  peace 
a  Christian  can  die :"  words  which  are  supposed  to  explain 
the  allusion  of  the  lines  in  TickelFs  elegy — 

"  He  taught  us  how  to  live  and  (oh  !  too  high 
The  price  of  knowledge)  taught  us  how  to  die." 

His  body,  after  lying  in  state  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
was  buried  by  night  in  Westminster  Abbey.  The  service 
was  performed  by  Atterbury,  and  the  scene  is  described  by 
Tickell  in  a  fine  passage,  probably  inspired  by  a  still  finer 
one  written  by  his  own  rival  and  his  friend's  satirist : 

"  Can  I  forget  the  dismal  night  that  gave 
My  soul's  best  part  for  ever  to  the  grave  ? 
How  silent  did  his  old  companions  tread, 
By  midnight  lamps,  the  mansions  of  the  dead, 
Through  breathing  statues,  then  unheeded  things, 
Through  rows  of  warriors,  and  through  walks  of  kings ! 
What  awe  did  the  slow  solemn  march  inspire, 
The  pealing  organ,  and  the  pausing  choir ; 
The  duties  by  the  lawn-robed  prelate  paid, 
And  the  last  words  that  dust  to  dust  conveyed ! 
While  speechless  o'er  the  closing  grave  we  bend, 
Accept  these  tears,  thou  dear  departed  friend ! 
Oh  gone  for  ever ;  take  this  last  adieu. 
And  sleep  in  peace  next  thy  loved  Montague."  ' 

He  left  by  the  Countess  of  Warwick  one  daughter,  who 
lived  in  his  old  house  at  Bilton,  and  died  unmarried  in  1797. 
^  Tickell's  Elegy,    Compare  Pope's  Eloisa  to  Abelard^  v.  107. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   GENIUS  OF  ADDISON. 

Such  is  Addison's  history,  which,  scanty  as  it  is,  goes  far 
towards  justifying  the  glowing  panegyric  bestowed  by 
Macaulay  on  "  the  unsullied  statesman,  the  accomplished 
scholar,  the  consummate  painter  of  life  and  manners,  the 
I  great  satirist  who  alone  knew  how  to  use  ridicule  without 
[abusing  it;  who,  without  inflicting  a  wound,  effected  a 
great  social  reform  ;  and  who  reconciled  wit  and  virtue  after 
a  long  and  painful  separation,  during  which  wit  had  been 
led  astray  by  profligacy,  and  virtue  by  fanaticism."  It  is 
wanting,  no  doubt,  in  romantic  incident  and  personal  in- 
terest, but  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  life  of  Scott ;  and 
what  do  we  know  of  the  personality  of  Homer  and  Shake- 
speare? The  real  life  of  these  writers  is  to  be  found  in 
their  work  ;  and  there,  too,  though  on  a  different  level  and 
in  a  different  shape,  are  we  to  look  for  the  character  of 
the  creator  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  But,  while  it  seems 
possible  to  divine  the  personal  tastes  and  feelings  of  Shake- 
speare and  Scott  under  a  hundred  different  ideal  forms  of 
their  own  invention,  it  is  not  in  these  that  the  genius  of 
Addison  most  characteristically  embodies  itself.  Did  his 
reputation  rest  on  Bosamond  or  Cato  or  The  Campaign,  his 
name  would  be  little  better  known  to  us  than  any  among 
that  crowd  of  mediocrities  who  have  been  immortalised  in 


154  ADDISON.  [chap. 

Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets.  The  work  of  Addison  con- 
sisted in  building  up  a  public  opinion  which,  in  spite  of  its 
durable  solidity,  seems,  like  the  great  Gothic  cathedrals,  to 
absorb  into  itself  the  individuality  of  the  architect.  A  vig- 
orous effort  of  thought  is  required  to  perceive  how  strong 
this  individuality  must  have  been.  We  have  to  reflect  on 
the  ease  with  which,  even  in  these  days  when  the  :iounda- 
tions  of  all  authority  are  called  in  question,  w^e  form  judg- 
ments on  questions  of  morals,  breeding,  and  taste,  and  then 
to  dw^ell  in  imagination  on  the  state  of  conflict  in  all  matters 
religious,  moral,  and  artistic,  which  prevailed  in  the  period 
between  the  Restoration  and  the  succession  of  the  House  of 
Hanover.  To  whom  do  we  owe  the  comparative  harmony 
w^e  enjoy  ?  Undoubtedly  to  the  authors  of  the  Spectator^ 
and  first  among  these,  by  universal  consent,  to  Addison. 

Addison's  own  disposition  seems  to  have  been  of  that  rare 
and  admirable  sort  which  Hamlet  praised  in  Horatio : 

^/  "  Thou  hast  been 

As  one  in  suffering  all  that  suffers  nothing : 
A  man  that  Fortune's  buffets  and  rewards 
\  \\       Has  ta'en  with  equal  thanks ;  and  blessed  are  those 
Whose  blood  and  judgment  are  so  well  commingled 
That  they  are  not  a  pipe  for  Fortune's  finger 
To  sound  what  stop  she  please." 


These  lines  fittingly  describe  the  patient  serenity  and 
dignified  independence  with  which  Addison  worked  his 
way  amid  great  hardships  and  diflSculties  to  the  highest 
position  in  the  State  ;  but  they  have  a  yet  more  honourable 
application  to  the  task  he  performed  of  reconciling  the  I 
social  dissensions  of  his  countrymen^    **The  blood  and  \ 
judgment  well  commingled  "  are  visible  in  the  standard  of  / 
conduct  which  he  held  up  for  Englishmen  in  his  writings,  / 
as  well  as  in  his  use  of  the  weapon  of  ridicule  against  all/ 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  156 

I  aberrations  from  good  breeding  and  common-sense.  Those 
^  only  will  estimate  hira  at  his  true  worth  who  will  give,  what 
Johnson  says  is  his  due,  "  their  days  and  nights  "  to  the 
study  of  the  Spectator,  But  from  the  general  reader  less 
must  be  expected ;  and  as  the  first  chapter  of  this  volume 
has  been  devoted  to  a  brief  view  of  the  disorder  of  society 
kvith  which  Addison  had  to  deal,  it  may  be  fitting  in  the 
past  to  indicate  some  of  the  main  points  in  which  he  is  to 
[be  regarded  as  the  reconciler  of  parties  and  the  founder  of 
public  opinion. 

I  have  shown  how,  after  the  final  subversion  by  the 
Civil  War  of  the  old-fashioned  Catholic  and  Feudal  stand- 
ards of  social  life,  two  opposing  ideals  of  conduct  re- 
mained harshly  confronting  each  other  in  the  respective 
moral  codes  of  the  Court  and  the  Puritans.  The  victori- 
ous Puritans,  averse  to  all  the  pleasures  of  sense  and  in- 
tolerant of  the  most  T^armless  of  natural  instincts,  had 
oppressed  the  nation  with  a, religious  despotism.  The 
nation,  groaning  under  the  yoke,  brought  back  its  banished  i 
monarch,  but  was  soon  shocked  to  find  sensual  Pleasure 
exalted  into  a  worship,  and  Impiety  into  a  creed.  Though 
civil  war  had  ceased,  the  two  parties  maintained  a  truce- 
less  conflict  of  opinion  :  the  Puritan  proscribing  all  amuse- 
ment because  it  was  patronised  by  the  godless  malignants; 
the  courtiers  holding  that  no  gentleman  could  be  religious 
or  strict  in  his  morals  without  becoming  tainted  with  the^ 
cant  of  the  Roundheads.  This  harsh  antagonism  of  senti-J 
ment  is  humorously  illustrated  by  the  excellent  Sir  Roger,! 
who  is  made  to  moralise  on  the  stupidity  of  party  violence/ 
by  recalling  an  incident  of  his  own  boyhood :  / 

"The  ^Yorthy  knight,  being  but  .a  stripling,  had  occasion  to  in- 
quire which  was  the  way  to  St.  Anne's  Lane,  upon  which  the  person     V 
whom  he  spoke  to,  instead  of  answering  his  question,  called  him  a 


/ 

156  ADDISON.  [chap. 

young  Popish  cur,  and  asked  him  who  made  Anne  a  saint.  The 
boy,  being  in  some  confusion,  inquired  of  the  next  he  met  which  was 
the  way  to  Anne's  Lane ;  but  was  called  a  prick-eared  cur  for  his 
pains,  and,  instead  of  being  shown  the  way,  was  told  that  she  had 
been  a  saint  before  he  was  born,  and  would  be  one  after  he  was 
hanged.  '  Upon  this,'  says  Sir  Koger,  *  I  did  not  think  it  fit  to  re- 
peat the  former  question,  but  going  into  every  lane  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, asked  what  they  called  the  name  of  that  lane.'  "  ^ 

It  was  Addison's  aim  to  prove  to  the  contending  par-j 
ties  what  a  large  extent  of  ground  they  might  occupy  in. 
common.  He  showed  the  courtiers,  in  a  form  of  light 
literature  which  pleased  their  imagination,  and  with  a 
grace  and  charm  of  manner  that  they  were  well  qualified 
to  appreciate,  that  true  religion  was  not  opposed  to  good 
breeding.  To  this  class  in  particular  he  addressed  hie 
papers  on  Devotion,^  on  Prayer,^  on  Faith,*  on  Tempera 
and  Eternal  Happiness.^  On  the  other  hand,  he  broughl 
his  raillery  to  bear  on  the  super-solemnity  of  the  trading 
and  professional  classes,  in  whom  the  spirit  of  Puritanism 
was  most  prevalent.  "  About  an  age  ago,"  says  he,  "  it 
was  the  fashion  in  England  for  every  one  that  would  be 
thought  religious  to  throw  as  much  sanctity  as  possible 
into  his  face,  and,  in  particular,  to  abstain  from  all  appear- 
ances of  mirth  and  pleasantry,  which  were  looked  upon 
as  the  marks  of  a  carnal  mind.  The  saint  was  of  a  sor- 
rowful countenance,  and  generally  eaten  up  with  spleen  and 
melancholy."  ® 

It  was  doubtless  for  the  benefit  of  this  class  that  he 
wrote  his  three  Essays  on  Cheerfulness,^  in  which  the  gloom 
of  the  Puritan  creed  is  corrected  by  arguments  founded 
on  Natural  Eeligion. 

1  Spectator,  No.  125.  ^  75^^,^  y^i^  \\i^  ^^^^  201,  207. 

3  Ihid.,  No.  391.  4  Ibid.,  No.  465.  ^  m^^^  Xo.  575. 

» Ibid.,  No.  494.  "^  Ihid,,  Nos.  881,  887,  893. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  167 

"  The  cheerfulness  of  heart,"  he  observes  in  a  charming  passage, 
"which  springs  up  in  us  from  the  survey  of  Nature's  works  is  an 
admirable  preparation  for  gratitude.  The  mind  has  gone  a  great 
way  towards  praise  and  thanksgiving  that  is  filled  with  such  secret 
gladness — a  grateful  reflection  on  the  Supreme  Cause  who  produces 
it,  sanctifies  it  in  the  soul,  and  gives  it  its  proper  value.  Such  an 
habitual  disposition  of  mind  consecrates  every  field  and  wood,  turns 
an  ordinary  walk  into  a  morning  or  evening  sacrifice,  and  will  im- 
prove those  transient  gleams  of  joy,  which  naturally  brighten  up  and 
refresh  the  soul  on  such  occasions,  into  an  inviolable  and  perpetual 
state  of  bUss  and  happiness." 

The  same  qualities  appear  in  his  dramatic  criticisms. 
The  corruption  of  the  stage  was  to  the  Puritan,  or  the 
Puritanic  moralist,  not  so  much  the  effect  as  the  cause 
of  the  corruption  of  society.  To  Jeremy  Collier  and  his 
imitators  the  theatre  in  all  its  manifestations  is  equally 
abominable:  they  see  no  difference  between  Shakespeare 
and  Wycherley.  Dry  den,  who  bowed  before  Collier's  re- 
buke with  a  penitent  dignity  that  does  him  high  honour, 
yet  rallies  him  with  humour  on  this  point : 

"  Perhaps  the  Parson  stretched  a  point  too  far 
When  with  our  Theatres  he  waged  a  war ; 
He  tells  you  that  this  very  Moral  Age 
Received  the  first  infection  from  the  Stage ; 
But  sure  a  banisht  Court  with  Lewdness  fraught 
The  seeds  of  open  Vice  returning  brought ; 
Thus  lodged  (as  vice  by  great  example  thrives) 
It  first  debauched  the  daughters  and  the  wives." 

Dryden  was  quite  right.  The  Court  after  the  Restora- 
tion was  for  the  moment  the  sole  school  of  manners ;  and 
the  dramatists  only  reflected  on  the  stage  the  inverted 
ideas  which  were  accepted  in  society  as  the  standard  of 
good  breeding.  All  sentiments  founded  on  reverence  for 
religion  or  the  family  or  honourable  industry,  were  ban- 


168  ADDISON.  [chap. 

ished  from  the  drama  because  they  were  unacceptable  at 
Court.  The  idea  of  virtue  in  a  married  woman  would 
have  seemed  prodigious  to  Shadwell  or  Wycherley ;  Yan- 
brugh  had  no  scruples  in  presenting  to  an  audience  a 
drunken  parson  in  Sir  John  Brute;  the  merchant  or 
tradesman  seemed,  like  Congreve's  Alderman  Fondlewife, 
to  exist  solely  that  their  wives  might  be  seduced  by  men 
of  fashion.  Addison  and  his  disciples  saw  that  these  un- 
natural creations  of  the  theatre  were  the  product  of  the 
corruption  of  society,  and  that  it  was  men,  not  institu- 
tions, that  needed  reform.  Steele,  always  the  first  to  feel 
a  generous  impulse,  took  the  lead  in  raising  the  tone  of 
stage  morality  in  a  paper  which,  characteristically  enough, 
was  suggested  by  some  reflections  on  a  passage  in  one  of 
bis  own  plays.^  He  followed  up  his  attack  by  an  admi- 
rable criticism,  part  of  which  has  been  already  quoted,  on 
Etherege's  Man  in  the  Mode^  the  hero  of  which,  Sir  Fopling 
Flutter,  who  had  long  been  the  model  of  young  men  of 
wit  and  fashion,  he  shows  to  be  "  a  direct  knave  in  his 
designs  and  a  clown  in  his  language."  ^ 
.  As  usual,  Addison  improves  the  opportunity  which 
/Steele  affords  him,  and  with  his  grave  irony  exposes  the 
ridiculous  principle  of  the  fashionable  comedy  by  a  simple 
statement  of  fact : 

"  Cuckoldom,"  says  he,  "  is  the  basis  of  most  of  our  modern  plays. 
If  an  alderman  appears  upon  the  stage  you  may  be  sure  it  is  in  order 
to  be  cuckolded.  An  husband  that  is  a  little  grave  or  elderly  gener- 
ally meets  with  the  same  fate.  Knights  and  baronets,  country  squires, 
and  justices  of  the  quorum,  come  up  to  town  for  no  other  purpose. 
I  have  seen  poor  Dogget  cuckolded  in  all  these  .capacities.  In  short, 
our  English  writers  are  as  frequently  severe  upon  this  innocent,  un- 
happy creature,  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  a  cuckold,  as  the 

'  Spectator,  Xo.  51.  2  j^^^  ^^^  55^ 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  159 

ancient  comic  writers  were  upon  an  eating  parasite  or  a  vainglorious 
soldier. 

" .  .  .1  have  sometimes  thought  of  compiling  a  s^^stem  of  ethics 
out  of  the  writings  of  these  corrupt  poets,  under  the  title  of  Stage 
Morality ;  but  I  have  been  diverted  from  this  thought  by  a  project 
which  has  been  executed  by  an  ingenious  gentleman  of  my  acquaint- 
ance. He  has  composed,  it  seems,  the  history  of  a  young  fellow  who 
has  taken  all  his  notions  of  the  world  from  the  stage,  and  who  has 
directed  himself  in  every  circumstance  of  his  life  and  conversation 
by  the  maxims  and  examples  of  the  fine  gentleman  in  English  come- 
dies. If  I  can  prevail  upon  him  to  give  me  a  copy  of  this  new-fash- 
ioned novel,  I  will  bestow  on  it  a  place  in  my  works,  and  question 
not  but  it  may  have  as  good  an  effect  upon  the  drama  as  Don  Quixote 
had  upon  romance."  ^ 

Nothing  could  be  more  sldlful  than  tliis.  Collier's  in- 
vective no  doubt  produced  a  momentary  flutter  among  the 
dramatists,  who,  however,  soon  found  they  had  little  to 
fear  from  arguments  which  appealed  only  to  that  serious 
portion  of  society  which  did  not  frequent  the  theatre.  But 
Addison's  penetiiating  wit,  founded  as  it  was  on  truth  and 
reason,  was  appreciated  by  the  fashionable  world.  Dori- 
manTli^nd  Sir  Fopling  Flutter  felt  ashamed  of  themselves.. 
The  cuckold  disappeared  from  the  stage.  In  society  itself 
marriage  no  longer  appeared  ridiculous, 

"  It  is  my  custom,"  says-  the  Spectator  in  one  of  his  late  papers, 
*'  to  take  frequent  opportunities  of  inquiring  from  time  to  time  what 
success  my  speculations  meet  with  in  the  town.  I  am  glad  to  find, 
in  particular,  that  my  discourses  on  marriage  have  been  well  received. 
A  fiiend  of  mine  gives  me  to  understand,  from  Doctors'  Commons, 
that  more  licenses  have  been  taken  out  there  of  late  than  usual.  I 
am  likewise  informed  of  several  pretty  fellows  who  have  resolved 
to  commence  heads  of  families  by  the  first  favourable  opportunity. 
One  of  them  writes  me  word  that  he  is  ready  to  enter  into  the  bonds 

^  Spectator^  No.  446. 


160  ADDISON.  [chap. 

of  matrimony  provided  I  will  give  it  him  under  my  hand  (as  I  now 
do)  that  a  man  may  show  his  face  in  good  company  after  he  is  mar- 
ried, and  that  he  need  not  be  ashamed  to  treat  a  woman  with  kind- 
ness who  puts  herself  into  his  power  for  life."  ^ 

So,  too,  in  politics,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  Ad- 
dison's moderation  should  exercise  a  restraining  influence 
on  the  violence  of  Parliamentary  parties.  Bat  in  helping 
to  form  a  reasonable  public  opinion  in  the  more  reflective 
part  of  the  nation  at  large,  his  efforts  could  not  have  been 
unavailing.  He  was  a  steady  and  consistent  supporter  of 
the  Whig  party,  and  Bolingbrohe  found  that,  in  spite  of 
his  mildness,  his  principles  were  proof  against  all  the  se- 
ductions of  interest.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  Whig  in  the  sense 
in  which  all  the  best  political  writers  in  our  literature, 
to  whichever  party  they  may  have  nominally  belonged — 
Bolingbroke,  Swift,  and  Canning,  as  much  as  Somers  and 
Burke  —  would  have  avowed  themselves  Whigs;  as  one, 
that  is  to  say,  who  desired  above  all  things  to  maintain 
the  constitution  of  his  country.  He  attached  himself  to 
the  Whigs  of  his  period  because  he  saw  in  them,  as  the 
associated  defenders  of  the  liberties  of  the  Parliament,  the 
best  counterpoise  to  the  still  preponderant  power  of  the 
Crown.  But  he  would  have  repudiated  as  vigorously  as 
Burke  the  democratic  principles  to  which  Fox,  under  the 
stimulus  of  party  spirit,  committed  the  Whig  connection 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution;  and  for  that 
stupid  and  ferocious  spirit,  generated  by  party,  which 
would  deny  to  opponents  even  the  appearance  of  virtue 
and  intelligence,  no  man  had  a  more  wholesome  contempt. 
/Page  after  page  of  the  Spectator  show^s  that  Addison  perV 
ceived  as  clearly  as  Swift  the  theoretical  absurdity  of  the 
party  system,  and  tolerated  it  only  as  an  evil  inseparable 
*  Spectator^  No.  525  (by  Hughes). 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  161 

from  the  imperfection  of  human  nature  and  free  institu- 
/  tions.  He  regarded  it  as  the  parent  of  hypocrisy  and  self- 
1  deception. 

"  Intemperate  zeal,  bigotry,  and  persecution  for  any  party  or  opin- 
ion, how  praiseworthy  soever  they  may  appear  to  weak  men  of  our 
own  principles,  produce  infinite  calamities  among  mankind,  and  are 
highly  criminal  in  their  own  nature ;  and  yet  how  many  persons,  emi- 
nent for  piety,  suffer  such  monstrous  and  absurd  principles  of  action 
to  take  root  in  their  minds  under  the  colour  of  virtues  !  For  my  own 
part,  I  must  own  I  never  yet  knew  any  party  so  just  and  reasonable 
that  a  man  could  follow  it  in  its  height  and  violence  and  at  the  same 
time  be  innocent."  ^ 

\     As  to  party  -  writing,  he  considered  it  identical  with 
Mying. 

"A  man,"  says  he,  "is  looked  upon  as  bereft  of  common-sense 
that  gives  credit  to  the  relations  of  party-writers ;  nay,  his  own  friends 
shake  their  heads  at  him  and  consider  him  in  no  other  light  than  as 
an  officious  tool  or  a  well-meaning  idiot.  When  it  was  formerly  the 
fashion  to  husband  a  lie  and  trump  it  up  in  some  extraordinary  emer- 
gency it  generally  did  execution,  and  was  not  a  little  useful  to  the 
faction  that  made  use  of  it ;  but  at  present  every  man  is  upon  his 
guard :  the  artifice  has  been  too  often  repeated  to  take  effect."  ^ 

Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  "  often  closes  his  narrative  with 
reflections  on  the  mischief  that  parties  do  in  the  country." 

"  There  cannot,"  says  the  Spectator  himself,  "  a  greater  judgment 
befall  a  country  than  such  a  dreadful  spirit  of  division  as  rends  a 
/government  into  two  distinct  people,  and  makes  them  greater  stran- 
/  gers  and  more  averse  to  one  another  than  if  they  were  actually  two 
I  different  nations.  The  effects  of  such  a  division  are  pernicious  to 
I  the  last  degree,  not  only  with  regard  to  those  advantages  which  they 
\give  the  common  enemy,  but  to  those  private  evils  which  they  pro- 
Vluce  in  the  heart  of  almost  every  particular  person.     This  influence 

'  Spectator,  No.  399.  2  /^^-^^  j^^o.  607. 


/■■ 


162  ADDISON.  [chap. 

is  very  fatal  both  to  men's  morals  and  to  their  understandings ;  it 
sinks  the  virtue  of  a  nation,  and  not  only  so,  but  destroys  even  com- 
mon-sense." * 

^  Nothing  in  the  work  of  Addison  is  more  suggestive  of 
/  the  just  and  well-balanced  character  of  his  genius  than  his 
papers  on  Women.  It  has  been  already  said  that  the  sev- 
enteenth century  exhibits  the  decay  of  the  Feudal  Ideal. 
The  passionate  adoration  with  which  women  were  regarded 
in  the  age  of  chivalry  degenerated  after  the  Eestoration 
into  a  habit  of  insipid  gallantry  or  of  brutal  license.  Men 
of  fashion  found  no  mean  for  their  affections  between  a 
Sacharissa  and  a  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  while  tke  domes- 
tic standard  of  the  time  reduced  the  remainder  of  the  sex 
to  the  position  of  virtuous  but  uninteresting  household 
drudges.  Of  woman,  as  the  companion  and  the  helpmate 
of  man,  the  source  of  all  the  grace  and  refinements  of  so- 
cial intercourse,  no  trace  is  to  be  found  in  the  literature  of 
the  Restoration  except  in  the  Eve  of  Milton's  still  unstud- 
ied poem  :  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  she  was  the  cre- 
ation of  the  Spectator, 

The  feminine  ideal,  at  which  the  essayists  of  the  period 
•  aimed,  is  very  well  described  by  Steele  in  a  style  which 
he  imitated  from  Addison  : 

"  The  other  day,"  he  writes,  in  the  character  of  a  fictitious  female 
correspondent,  "  we  were  several  of  us  at  a  tea-table,  and,  according 
to  custom  and  your  own  advice,  had  the  Spectator  read  among  us. 
It  was  that  paper  wherein  you  are  pleased  to  treat  with  great  free- 
dom that  character  which  you  call  a  woman's  man.  We  gave  up  all 
the  kinds  you  have  mentioned  except  those  who,  you  say,  are  our 
constant  visitants.  I  was  upon  the  occasion  commissioned  by  the 
company  to  write  to  you  and  tell  you  *  that  we  shall  not  part  with 
the  men  we  have  at  present  until  the  men  of  sense  thi^k  fit  to  re- 

*  Spectator^  No.  125. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  163 

lieve  them  and  give  us  their  company  in  their  stead.'  aou  cannot 
imagine  but  we  love  to  hear  reason  and  good  sense  better  than  the 
ribaldry  we  are  at  present  entertained  with,  but  we  must  have  com- 
pany, and  among  us  very  inconsiderable  is  better  than  none  at  all. 
We  are  made  for  the  cements  of  society,  and  come  into  the  world 
to  create  relations  amongst  mankind,  and  solitude  is  an  unnatural 
being  to  us."  ^ 

In  contrast  with  the  character  of  the  writer  of  this  let- 
ter— a  type  which  is  always  recurring  in  the  Spectator — • 
modest  and  unaffected,  but  at  the  same  time  shrewd,  wit- 
ty, and  refined,  are  /ntroduced  very  eccentric  specimens 
of  womanhood,  all  tending  to  illustrate  the  derangement 
of  the  social  order — the  masculine  woman,  the  learned 
woman,  the  female  politician,  .besides  those  that  more 
properly  belong  to  the  nature  of  the  sex,  the  prude  and 
the  coquette.  A  very  gi-aceful  example  of  x\ddison's  pe- 
culiar humour  is  found  in  his  satire  on  that  false  ambi- 
tion in  women  which  prompts  them  to  imitate  the  min- 
ers of  men  j  ^ 

"  The  girls  of  quality,"  he  writes,  describing  the  customs  of  the 
Republic  of  Women,  *'  from  six  to  twelve  years  old,  were  put  to  pub- 
lic schools,  where  they  learned  to  box  and  play  at  cudgels,  with  sev- 
eral other  accomplishments  of  the  same  nature,  so  that  nothing  was 
more  usual  than  to  see  a  little  miss  returning  home  at  night  with  a 
broken  pate,  or  two  or  three  teeth  knocked  out  of  her  head.  They 
were  afterwards  taught  to  ride  the  great  horse,  to  shoot,  dart,  or 
sling,  and  listed  themselves  into  several  companies  in  order  to  per- 
fect themselves  in  military  exercises.  No  woman  was  to  be  married 
till  she  had  killed  her  man.  The  ladies  of  fashion  used  to  play  with 
young  lions  instead  of  lap-dogs ;  and  when  they  had  made  any  par- 
ties of  diversion,  instead  of  entertaining  themselves  at  ombre  and 
piquet,  they  would  wrestle  and  pitch  the  bar  for  a  whole  .afternoon 
together.  There  was  never  any  such  thing  as  a  blush  seen  or  a 
sigh  heard  in  the  whole  commonwealth."  ^ 

1  Spectator,  No.  158.  «  jn^^  Xo.  434. 

8 


164  ADDISON.  [chap. 

The  amazon  was  a  type  of  womanhood  peculiarly  dis- 
tasteful to  Addison,  whose  humour  delighted  itself  with 
all  the  curiosities  and  refinements  of  feminine  caprice — 
the  fan,  the  powder-box,  and  the  petticoat.  Nothing  can 
\  more  characteristically  suggest  the  exquisiteness  of  his 
fancy  than  a  comparison  of  Swift's  verses  on  a  Lady's 
Dressing-Room  with  the  following,  which  evidently  gave 
/^  Pope  a  hint  for  one  of  the  happiest  passages  in  The  Rape 
of  the  Lock : 

"  The  single  dress  of  a  woman  of  quality  is  often  the  product  of 
a  hundred  climates.  The  muff  and  the  fan  come  together  from  the 
different  ends  of  the  earth.  The  scarf  is  sent  from  the  torrid  zone, 
and  the  tippet  from  beneath  the  Pole.  The  brocade  petticoat  rises 
out  of  the  mines  of  Peru,  and  the  diamond  necklace  out  of  the  bowels 
of  Indostan."  ^ 

To  turn  to  Addison's  artistic  genius,  the  crowning  evi- 
dence of  his  powers  is  the  design  and  the  execution  of 
the  Spectator,  Many  writers,  and  among  them  Macaulay, 
have  credited  Steele  with  the  invention  of  the  Spectator 
as  well  as  of  the  Tatler ;  but  I  think  that  a  close  exami- 
nation of  the  opening  papers  in  the  former  w^ill  not  only 
prove,  almost  to  demonstration,  that  on  this  occasion  Steele 
was  acting  as  the  lieutenant  of  his  friend,  but  will  also 
show  the  admirable  artfulness  of  the  means  by  which  Ad- 
dison executed  his  intention.  The  purpose  of  the  Specta- 
tor is  described  in  the  tenth  number,  which  is  by  Addison  : 

"I  shall  endeavour,"  said  he,  "to  enliven  morality  with  wit,  and 

to  temper  wit  with  morality,  that  my  readers  may,  if  possible,  both 

ways  find  their  account  in  the  speculation  of  the  day.     And  to  the 

1      end  that  their  virtue  and  discretion  may  not  be  short,  transient,  in- 

'     termitting  starts  of  thought,  I  have  resolved  to  refresh  their  memo- 

i  ^  Spectator^  No.  69. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  165 

ries  from  day  to  day  till  I  have  recovered  them  out  of  that  desperate 
state  of  vice  and  folly  into  which  the  age  has  fallen." 

That  is  to  say,  liis  design  was  "  to  hold  as  'twere  the 
miffor  up  to  nature,"  so  that  the  conscience  of  society 
might  recognise  in  a  dramatic  form  the  character  of  its 
lapses  from  virtue  and  reason.  The  indispensable  instru- 
ment for  the  execution  of  this  design  was  the  Spectator 
'himself,  the  silent  embodiment  of  right  reason  and  good 
taste,  who  is  obviously  the  conception  of  Addison. 

"  I  live  in  the  world  rather  as  a  spectator  of  mankind  than  as  one 
of  the  species  by  which  means  I  have  made  myself  a  speculative 
statesman,  soldier,  merchant,  and  artizan,  without  ever  meddling  with 
any  practical  part  in  life.  I  am  very  well  versed  in  the  theory  of  a 
husband,  or  a  father,  and  can  discern  the  errors  in  the  economy, 
business,  and  diversion  of  others  better  than  those  who  are  engaged 
in  them,  as  standers-by  discover  blots  which  are  apt  to  escape  those 
who  are  in  the  game.  I  never  espoused  any  party  with  violence,  and 
am  resolved  to  observe  an  exact  neutrality  between  the  Whigs  and 
Tories  unless  I  shall  be  forced  to  declare  myself  by  the  hostilities  of 
either  side.  In  short,  I  have  acted  in  all  the  parts  of  my  life  as  a 
looker-on,  which  is  the  character  I  intend  to  preserve  in  this  paper." 

In  order,  however,  to  give  this  somewhat  inanimate 
figure  life  and  action,  he  is  represented  as  the  principal 
member  of  a  club,  his  associates  consisting  of  various 
representatives  of  the  chief  "interests"  of  society.  We 
can  scarcely  doubt  that  the  club  was  part  of  the  original 
and  central  conception  of  the  work ;  and  if  this  be  so,  a 
new  light  is  thrown  on  some  of  the  features  in  the  char- 
acters of  the  Spectator  which  have  hitherto  rather  per- 
plexed the  critic's. 

"  The  Spectator^  friends,"  says  Macaulay,  "  were  first  sketched  by 
Steele.  Four  of  the  club — the  templar,  the  clergyman,  the  soldier, 
and  the  merchant — were  uninteresting  figures,  fit  only  for  a  back* 


/ 


166  ADDISON.  [chap. 

ground.  But  the  other  two — an  old  country  baronet  and  an  old  town 
rake — though  not  delineated  with  a  very  delicate  pencil,  had  some 
good  strokes.  Addison  took  the  rude  outlines  into  his  own  hands, 
retouched  them,  coloured  them,  and  is  in  truth  the  creator  of  the  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley  and  the  Will  Honeycomb  with  whom  we  are  all 
familiar." 

This  is  a  very  misleading  account  of  the  matter.  It 
implies  that  the  characters  in  the  Spectator  were  mere 
casual  conceptions  of  Steele's;  that  Addison  knew  noth- 
ing about  them  till  he  saw  Steele's  rough  draft ;  and  that 
he,  and  he  alone,  is  the  creator  of  the  finished  character  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  char- 
acter of  Sir  Roger  is  full  of  contradictions  and  inconsis- 
tencies ;  and  the  want  of  unity  which  it  presents  is  easily 
explained  by  the  fact  that  it  is  the  work  of  four  different 
Lands.  Sixteen  papers  on  the  subject  were  contributed  by 
Addison,  seven  by  Steele,  three  by  Budgell,  and  one  by 
Tickell.  Had  Sir  Roger  been,  as  Macaulay  seems  to  sug- 
gest, merely  the  stray  phantom  of  Steele's  imagination, 
is  very  unlikely  that  so  many  different  painters  should 
have  busied  themselves  with  his  portrait.  But  he  was 
from  the  first  intended  to  be  a  type  of  a  country  gentleman, 
just  as  much  as  Don  Quixote  was  an  imaginative  repre- 
sentation of  many  Spanish  gentlemen  whose  brains  had 
been  turned  by  the  reading  of  romances.  In  both  cases 
the  type  of  character  was  so  common  and  so  truly  con- 
ceived as  to  lend  itself  easily  to  the  treatment  of  writers 
who  approached  it  with  various  conceptions  and  very  un- 
equal degrees  of  skill.  Any  critic,  therefore,  who  regards 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  as  the  abstract  'conception  of  a 
sino-le  mind  is  certain  to  misconceive  the  character.     This 

I  error  lies  at  the  root  of   Johnson's   description    of   the 

\  knight: 

\ 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  U1 

"  Of  the  characters,"  says  he,  "  feigned  or  exhibited  in  the  Specta- 
tor^ the  favourite  of  Addison  was  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  of  whom 
he  had  formed  a  very  deUcate  and  discriminated  idea,  which  he  would 
not  suffer  to  be  violated ;  and  therefore  when  Steele  had  shown  him 
innocently  picking  up  a  girl  in  the  Temple  and  taking  her  to  a  tavern, 
he  drew  upon  himself  so  much  of  his  friend's  indignation  that  he 
was  forced  to  appease  him  by  a  promise  of  forbearing  Sir  Roger  for 
the  time  to  come.  ...  It  may  be  doubted  whether  Addison  ever  filled 
up  his  original  delineation.  He  describes  his  knight  as  having  his 
imagination  somewhat  warped ;  but  of  this  perversion  he  has  made 
very  little  use.  The  irregularities  in  Sir  Roger's  conduct  seem  not  so 
much  the  effects  of  a  mind  deviating  from  the  beaten  track  of  life, 
by  the  perpetual  pressure  of  some  overwhelming  idea,  as  of  habitual 
rusticity  and  that  negligence  which  solitary  grandeur  naturally  gen- 
erates. The  variable  weather  of  the  mind,  the  flying  vapours  of  in- 
cipient madness,  which  from  time  to  time  cloud  reason  without  eclips- 
ing it,  it  requires  so  much  nicety  to  exhibit,  that  Addison  seems  to 
have  been  deterred  from  prosecuting  his  own  design." 

But  Addison  never  had  any  design  of  the  kind.  Steele, 
indeed,  describes  Sir  Roger  in  the  second  number  of  the 
Spectator  as  "a  gentleman  that  is  very  singular  in  his 
behaviour,"  but  he  added  that  "  his  singularities  proceed 
from  his  good  sense,  and  are  contradictions  to  the  manners 
of  the  world,  only,  as  he  thinks,  the  world  is  in  the  wrong." 
Addison  regarded  the  knight  from  a  different  point  of 
view.  "My  friend  Sir  Roger,"  he  says,  "amidst  all  his 
good  qualities  is  something  of  a  humourist ;  his  virtues  as 
well  as  imperfections  are,  as  it  were,  tinged  by  a  certain 
extravagance  which  makes  them  particularly  his,  and  dis- 
tinguishes them  from  those  of  other  men.  This  cast  of 
mind,  as  it  is  generally  very  innocent  in  itself,  so  it  renders 
his  conversation  highly  agreeable  and  more  delightful  than 
the  same  degree  of  sense  and  virtue  would  appear  in  their 
common  and  ordinary  colours." 

The  fact  is,  as  I  have  already  said,  that  it  had  evidently 


168  ADDISON.  [chap. 

been  predetermined  by  the  designers  of  the  Spectator  that 
the  Club  should  consist  of  certain  recognised  and  familiar 
types ;  the  different  writers,  in  turns,  worked  on  these 
types,  each  for  his  own  purpose  and  according  to  the  bent 
of  his  own  genius.  Steele  gave  the  first  sketch  of  Sir 
Roger  in  a  few  rough  but  vigorous  strokes,  which  w^ere 
afterwards  greatly  refined  and  altered  by  Addison.  In 
Steele's  hands  the  knight  appears  indeed  as  a  country 
squire,  but  he  has  also  a  town-house  in  Soho  Square,  then 
the  most  fashionable  part  of  London.  He  had  apparently 
been  originally  "  a  fine  gentleman,"  and  only  acquired  his 
old-fashioned  rusticity  of  manners  in  consequence  of  a  dis- 
appointment in  love.  All  his  oddities  date  from  this  ad- 
venture, though  his  heart  has  outlived  the  effects  of  it. 
"There  is,"  we  are  told,  "such  a  mirthful  cast  in  his  be- 
haviour that  he  is  rather  beloved  than  esteemed."  Steele's 
imagination  had  evidently  been  chiefly  caught  by  the  hu- 
mour of  Sir  Roger's  love  affair,  which  is  made  to  reflect 
the  romantic  cast  of  poetry  affected  after  the  Restoration, 
and  forms  the  subject  of  two  papers  in  the  series ;  in  two 
others — recording  respectively  the  knight's  kindness  to  his 
servants,  and  his  remarks  on  the  portraits  of  his  ancestors 
— the  writer  takes  up  the  idea  of  Addison ;  while  another 
gives  an  account  of  a  dispute  between  Sir  Roger  and  Sir 
Andrew  Freeport  on  the  merits  of  the  moneyed  interest. 
Addison,  on  the  other  hand,  had  formed  a  far  finer  con- 
ception of  the  character  of  the  country  gentleman,  and 
one  that  approaches  the  portrait  of  Don  Quixote.  As  a 
humourist  he  perceived  the  incongruous  position  in  mod- 
ern society  of  one  nourished  in  the  beliefs,  principles,  and 
traditions  of  the  old  feudal  world ;  and  hence,  whenever 
the  knight  is  brought  into  contact  with  modern  ideas,  he 
invests  his  observations,  as  the  Si^ectator  says,  with  "  a  cer- 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  169 

tain  extravagance"  which  constitutes  their  charm.  Such 
!are  the  papers  describing  his  behaviour  at  church,  his  in- 
(^lination  to  believe  in  witchcraft,  and  his  Tory  principles ; 

ch,  in  another  vein,  are  his  criticisms  in  the  theatre,  his 
pinions  of  Spring  Gardens,  and  his  delightful  reflections 
in  the  tombs  in  Westminster  Abbey.  But  Addison  was 
also  fully  alive  to  the  beauty  and  nobility  of  the  feudal 
idea,  which  he  brings  out  with  great  animation  in  the  va- 
lious  papers  describing  the  patriarchal  relations  existing 
between  Sir  Roger  and  his  servants,  retainers,  and  tenants, 
closing  the  series  with  the  truly  pathetic  account  of  the 
knight's  death.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  he  drops  alto- 
gether Steele's  idea  of  Sir  Roger  having  once  been  a  man 
of  fashion,  which  is  indeed  discarded  by  Steele  himself 
when  co-operating  with  his  friend  on  the  picture  of  coun- 
try life.  Addison  also  quite  disregards  Steele's  original 
hint  about  ''  the  humble  desires  "  of  his  hero ;  and  he  only 
once  jnakes  incidental  mention  of  the  widow. 

Budgell  contributed  three  papers  on  the  subject — two  in 
imitation  of  Addison ;  one  describing  a  fox-hunt,  and  the 
other  giving  Sir  Roger's  opinion  on  beards;  the  third,  in 
imitation  of  Steele,  showing  Sir  Roger's  state  of  mind  on 
hearing  of  the  addresses  of  Sir  David  Dundrum  to  the 
widow.  The  number  of  the  Spectator  which  is  said  to 
have  so  greatly  displeased  Addison  was  written,  not,  as 
Johnson  says,  by  Steele,  but  by  Tickell.  It  goes  far  to 
confirm  my  supposition  that  the  characters  of  the  Club 
had  been  agreed  upon  beforehand.  The  trait  which 
Tickell  describes  would  have  been  natural  enough  in  an 
ordinary  country  gentleman,  though  it  was  inconsistent 
with  the  fine  development  of  Sir  Roger's  character  in  the 
hands  of  Addison. 

In  his  capacity  of  critic  Addison  has  been  variously 


170  ADDISON.  [chap. 

judged,  and,  it  may  be  added,  generally  undervalued.  We 
find  that  Johnson's  contemporaries  were  reluctant  to  allow 
him  the  name  of  critic.  "  His  criticism,"  Johnson  ex- 
plains, "  is  condemned  as  tentative  or  experimental  rather 
than  scientific ;  and  he  is  considered  as  deciding  by  taste 
rather  than  by  principles."  But  if  Aristotle  is  right  in 
saying  that  the  virtuous  man  is  the  standard  of  virtue,  the 
man  of  sound  instincts  and  perceptions  ought  certainly  to 
be  accepted  as  a  standard  in  the  more  debatable  region  of 
taste.  There  can,  at  any  rate,  be  no  doubt  that  Addison's 
artistic  judgments,  founded  on  instinct,  were  frequently 
much  nearer  the  mark  than  Johnson's,  though  these  w^ere 

Tbased  on  principle.  Again,  Macaulay  says,  "  The  least  val- 
uable of  Addison's  contributions  to  the  Spectator  are,  in 
the  judgment  of  our  age,  his  critical  papers ;"  but  he  adds, 
patronisingly,  "  The  ver}^  worst  of  them  is  creditable  to 
him  when  the  character  of  the  school  in  which  he  had 

'  been  trained  is  fairly  considered.  The  best  of  them  were 
much  too  good  for  his  readers.  In  truth,  he  was  not  so 
far  behind  our  generation  as  he  was  before  his  own."  By 
"the  school  in  which  he  had  been  trained,"  Macaulay 
doubtless  meant  the  critical  traditions  established  by  Boi- 
lean  and  Bouhours,  and  he  would  have  justified  the  dis- 
paragement implied  in  his  reference  to  them  by  pointing 
to  the  pedantic  intolerance  and  narrowness  of  view  which 
these  traditions  encouraged.  But  in  all  matters  of  this 
kind  there  is  loss  and  gain.  If  Addison's  generation  was 
much  more  insensible  than  our  own  to  a  large  portion  of 
imaginative  truth,  it  had  a  far  keener  perception  of  the 
laws  and  limits  of  expression ;  and,  granted  that  Voltaire 
was  wrong  in  regarding  Shakespeare  as  an  "  inspired  bar- 
barian," he  would  never  have  made  the  mistake  which  crit- 
ics now  make  every  day  of  mistaking  nonsense  for  poetry. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  171 

But  it  may  well  be  questioned  if  Addison's  criticism  is 
only  "  tentative  and  experimental."  The  end  of  criticism 
is  surely  to  produce  a  habit  of  reasoning  rightly  on  mat- 
ters of  taste  and  imagination ;  and,  with  the  exception  of 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  no  English  critic  has  accomplished 
more  in  this  direction  than  Addison.  Before  his  time  Dry- 
den  had  scattered  over  a  number  of  prefaces  various  critical 
remarks,  admirably  felicitous  in  thought  and  racy  in  ex- 
pression. But  he  had  made  no  attempt  to  write  upon  the 
subject  systematically ;  and  in  practice  be  gave  himself  up 
without  an  effort  to  satisfy  the  tastes  which  a  corrupt 
Court  had  formed,  partly  on  the  "false  wit"  of  Cowley'^ 
following,  partly  on  the  extravagance  and  conceit  of  thp 
French  school  of  Romance.  Addison,  on  the  other  hand, 
set  himself  to  correct  this  depraved  fashion  by  establish- 
ing in  England,  on  a  larger  and  more  liberal  basis,  tlje 
standards  of  good  breeding  and  common-sense  which  Bo'i- 
leau  had  already  popularised  in  France.  Nothing  can  be 
more  just  and  discriminating  than  his  papers  on  the  dif- 
ference between  true  and  false  wit.^  He  was  the  first  to 
endeavour  to  define  the  limits  of  art  and  taste  in  his  es- 
says on  the  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination ;'^  and  though  his 
theory  on  the  subject  is  obviously  superficial,  it  suSiciently' 
proves  that  his  method  of  reasoning  on  questions  of  taste 
w^as  much  more  than  "tentative  and  experimental."  "I 
could  wish,"  he  says,  "  there  were  authors  who,  beside  the 
mechanical  rules  which  a  man  of  very  little  taste  may  dis- 
course upon,  would  enter  into  the  very  spirit  and  soul  of 
fine  writing,  and  show  us  the  several  sources  of  that  pleas- 
ure which  rises  in  the  mind  on  the  perusal  of  a  noble 
work."     His  studies  of  the  French  drama  prevented  him 

^  Spectator^  Nos.  58-63,  inclusive. 
2  Thid.,  Nos.  411-421,  inclusive. 

8* 


172  ADDISON.  [chap. 

from  appreciating  the  great  Elizabethan  school  of  tragedy, 
yet  many  stray  remarks  in  the  Spectator  show  how  deeply 
he  was  impressed  by  the  greatness  of  Shakespeare's  genius, 
while  his  criticisms  on  Tragedy  did  much  to  banish  the 
tumid  extravagance  of  the  romantic  style.  His  papers  on 
Milton  achieved  the  triumph  of  making  a  practically  un- 
known poem  one  of  the  most  popular  classics  in  the  lan- 
guage, and  he  was  more  than  half  a  century  before  his  age 
in  his  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  the  English  ballads. 
In  fact,  finding  English  taste  in  hopeless  confusion,  he  left 
it  in  admirable  order;  and  to  those  who  are  inclined  to 
depreciate  his  powers  as  a  critic  the  following  observations 
of  Johnson — not  a  very  favourable  judge— may  be  com- 
mended : 

"  It  is  not  uncommon  for  those  who  have  grown  wise  by  the  labour 
of  others  to  add  a  Uttle  of  their  own,  and  overlook  their  masters. 
Addison  is  now  despised  by  some  who  perhaps  would  never  have  seen 
his  defects  but  by  the  light  he  afforded  them.  That  he  always  wrote 
as  he  would  write  now  cannot  be  affirmed ;  his  instructions  were  such 
as  the  characters  of  his  readers  made  proper.  That  general  knowl- 
edge which  now  circulates  in  common  talk  was  in  his  time  rarely  to 
be  found.  Men  not  professing  learning  were  not  ashamed  of  igno- 
rance ;  and  in  the  female  world  any  acquaintance  with  books  was  dis- 
tinguished only  to  be  censured.  His  purpose  was  to  infuse  literary 
curiosity  by  gentle  and  unsuspected  conveyance  into  the  gay,  the  idle, 
and  the  wealthy ;  he  therefore  presented  knowledge  in  the  most  al- 
luring form,  not  lofty  and  austere,  but  accessible  and  familiar.  When 
he  showed  them  their  defects,  he  showed  them  likewise  that  they 
might  be  easily  supplied.  His  attempt  succeeded ;  inquiry  awakened 
and  comprehension  expanded.  An  emulation  of  intellectual  elegance 
was  excited,  and  from  this  time  to  our  own  life  has  been  gradually  ex- 
alted, and  conversation  purified  and  enlarged."  ^ 

The  essence  of  Addison's  humour  is  irmiy.     "  One  slight 
lineament  of  his  character,"  says  Johnson,  "Swift  has  pre- 
^  Life  of  Addison. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  ns 

served.  It  was  bis  practice,  when  he  found  any  man  in-  , 
vincibly  wrong,  to  flatter  his  opinions  by  acquiescence  and 
sink  him  yet  deeper  to  absurdi^."  The  same  characteristic 
manifests  itself  in  his  writings  under  a  great  variety  of 
forms.  Sometimes  it  appears  in  the  seemingly  logical 
premises  from  which  he  draws  an  obviously  absurd  con- 
clusion, as  for  instance : 

"  If  in  a  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  safety,  we  ought  to  think 
ourselves  the  securest  nation  in  the  world.  Most  of  our  garrets  are 
inhabited  by  statesmen,  who  watch  over  the  liberties  of  their  country, 
and  make  a  shift  to  keep  themselves  from  starving  by  taking  into 
their  care  the  properties  of  all  their  fellow-subjects."  ^ 

On  other  occasions  he  ridicules  some  fashion  of  taste  by  |^ 
a  perfectly  grave  and  simple  description  of  its  object.  Per- 
haps the  most  admirable  specimen  of  this  oblique  manner  is 
his  satire  on  the  Italian  opera  in  the  number  of  the  Spec- 
tator describing  the  various  lions  who  had  fought  on  the 
stage  with  Nicolini.  This  highly  -  finished  paper  deserves 
to  be  quoted  in  extenso : 

"There  is  nothing  of  late  years  has  afforded  matter  of  greater 
amusement  to  the  town  than  Signer  Nicolini's  combat  with  a  lion  in 
the  Haymarket,  which  has  been  very  often  exhibited  to  the  general 
satisfaction  of  most  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  in  the  kingdom  of  Great 
Britain.  Upon  the  first  rumour  of  this  intended  combat  it  was  con- 
fidently affirmed,  and  is  still  believed  by  many  in  both  galleries,  that 
there  would  be  a  tame  lion  sent  from  the  tower  every  opera  in  order 
to  be  killed  by  Hydaspes.  This  report,  though  altogether  groundless, 
*so  universally  prevailed  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  playhouse,  that 
:some  of  the  refined  politicians  in  those  parts  of  the  audience  gave  it 
out  in  a  whisper  that  the  lion  was  a  coiisin-german  of  the  tiger  who 
made  his  appearance  in  King  William's  days,  and  that  the  stage  would 
foe  supplied  with  lions  at  the  public  expense  during  the  whole  session. 
Many,  likewise,  were  the  conjectures  of  the  treatment  which  this  lion 

^  Spectator^  No.  556. 


114:  ADDISON.  [chap. 

was  to  meet  with  at  the  hands  of  Signor  Nicormi ;  some  supposed  that 
he  was  to  subdue  him  in  recitativo,  as  Orpheus  used  to  serve  the  wild 
beasts  in  his  time,  and  afterwards  to  knock  him  on  the  head ;  some 
fancied  that  the  Hon  would  not  pretend  to  lay  his  paws  upon  the  hero, 
by  reason  of  the  received  opinion  that  a  lion  will  not  hurt  a  virgin ; 
several,  who  pretended  to  have  seen  the  opera  in  Italy,  had  informed 
their  friends  that  the  lion  was  to  act  a  part  in  High  Dutch,  and  roar 
twice  or  thrice  to  a  thorough  -  bass  before  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  Ily- 
daspes.  To  clear  up  a  matter  that  was  so  variously  reported,  I  have 
made  it  my  business  to  examine  whether  this  pretended  lion  is  really 
the  savage  he  appears  to  be  or  only  a  counterfeit. 

"But,  before  I  communicate  my  discoveries,  I  must  acquaint  the 
public  that  upon  my  walking  behind  the  scenes  last  winter,  as  I  was 
thinking  upon  something  else,  I  accidentally  jostled  against  an  enor- 
mous animal  that  extremely  startled  me,  and,  upon  my  nearer  survey 
of  it,  appeared  to  be  a  lion  rampant.  The  lion,  seeing  me  very  much 
surprised,  told  me,  in  a  gentle  voice,  that  I  might  come  by  him  if  I 
pleased;  'for,'  says  he,  'I  do  not  intend  to  hurt  anybody.'  I  thanked 
him  very  kindly  and  passed  by  him,  and  in  a  httle  time  after  saw 
him  leap  upon  the  stage  and  act  his  part  with  very  great  applause. 
It  has  been  observed  by  several  that  the  lion  has  changed  his  man- 
ner of  acting  twice  or  thrice  since  his  first  appearance ;  which  will 
not  seem  strange  when  I  acquaint  my  reader  that  the  lion  has  been 
changed  upon  the  audience  three  several  times.  The  first  lion  was 
a  candle-snuffer,  who,  being  a  fellow  of  testy,  choleric  temper,  over- 
did his  part,  and  would  not  suffer  himself  to  be  killed  so  easily  as 
he  ought  to  have  done ;  besides,  it  was  observed  of  him  that  he  be- 
came more  surly  every  time  he  came  out  of  the  lion ;  and  having 
dropped  some  words  in  ordinary  conversation  as  if  he  had  not  fought 
his  best,  and  that  he  suffered  himself  to  be  thrown  on  his  back  in 
the  scuffle,  and  that  he  could  wrestle  with  Mr.  Nicohni  for  what  he 
pleased  out  of  his  lion's  skin,  it  was  thought  proper  to  discard  him; 
and  it  is  verily  believed  to  this  day  that,  had  he  been  brought  upon 
the  stage  another  time,  he  would  certainly  have  done  mischief.  Be- 
sides, it  was  objected  against  the  first  lion  that  he  reared  himself  so 
high  upon  his  hinder  paws  and  walked  in  so  erect  a  posture  that  he 
looked  more  like  an  old  man  than  a  lion. 

"  The  second  lion  was  a  tailor  by  trade,  who  belonged  to  the  play- 
house, and  had  the  character  of  a  mild  and  peaceable  man  in  his 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  175 

profession.  If  the  former  was  too  furious,  this  was  too  sheepish  for 
his  part,  insomuch  that,  after  a  short,  modest  walk  upon  the  stage, 
he  would  fall  at  the  first  touch  of  Hydaspes,  without  grappling  with 
him  and  giving  him  an  opportunity  of  showing  his  variety  of  Italian 
trips.  It  is  said,  indeed,  that  he  once  gave  him  a  rip  in  his  flesh- 
coloured  doublet;  but  this  was  only  to  make  work  for  himself  in  his 
private  character  of  a  tailor.  I  must  not  omit  that  it  was  this  sec- 
ond lion  who  treated  me  with  so  much  humanity  behind  the  scenes. 

"  The  acting  lion  at  present  is,  as  I  am  informed,  a  country  gentle- 
man, who  does  it  for  his  diversion,  but  desires  his  name  may  be  con- 
cealed. He  says,  very  handsomely  in  his  own  excuse,  that  he  does 
not  act  for  gain ;  that  he  indulges  an  innocent  pleasure  in  it ;  and 
that  it  is  better  to  pass  away  an  evening  in  this  manner  than  in 
gaming  and  drinking ;  but  he  says  at  the  same  time,  with  a  very 
agreeable  raillery  upon  himself,  that,  if  his  name  were  known,  the 
ill-natured  world  might  call  him  '  the  ass  in  the  lion's  skin.'  This 
gentleman's  temper  is  made  out  of  such  a  happy  mixture  of  the 
mild  and  the  choleric  that  he  outdoes  both  his  predecessors,  and 
has  drawn  together  greater  audiences  than  have  been  known  in  the 
memory  of  man. 

"I  must  not  conclude  my  narrative  without  taking  notice  of  a 
groundless  report  that  has  been  raised  to  a  gentleman's  disadvan- 
tage of  whom  I  must  declare  myself  an  admirer ;  namely,  that  Sign- 
er Nicolini  and  the  lion  have  been  seen  sitting  peaceably  by'  one 
another  and  smoking  a  pipe  together  behind  the  scenes ;  by  which 
their  common  enemies  would  insinuate  that  it  is  but  a  sham  combat 
which  they  represent  upon  the  stage ;  but  upon  inquiry  I  find  that, 
if  any  such  correspondence  has  passed  between  them,  it  was  not  till 
the  combat  was  over,  when  the  lion  was  to  be  looked  on  as  dead,  ac- 
cording to  the  received  rules  of  the  drama.  Besides,  this  is  what  is 
practised  every  day  in  Westminster  Hall,  where  nothing  is  more  usual 
than  to  see  a  couple  of  lawyers  who  have  been  tearing  each  other  to 
pieces  in  the  court  embracing  one  another  as  soon  as  they  are  out 
of  it."i 

In  a  somewhat  different  vein,  the  ridicule  cast  by  tlijs 

Spectator  on  the  fashions  of  his  day,  by  anticipating  the 

judgment  of  posterity  on  himself,  is  equally  happy  : 

1  Spectator.'^oAZ. 


176  ADDISOX.  [chap. 

"As  for  his  speculations,  notwithstanding  the  several  obsolete 
words  and  obscure  phrases  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  we  still  un- 
derstand enough  of  them  to  see  the  diversions  and  characters  of  the 
English  nation  in  his  time ;  not  but  that  we  are  to  make  allowance 
for  the  mirth  and  humour  of  the  author,  who  has  doubtless  strained 
many  representations  of  things  beyond  the  truth.  For,  if  we  must 
interpret  his  words  in  their  literal  meaning,  we  must  suppose  that 
women  of  the  first  quality  used  to  pass  away  whole  mornings  at  a 
puppet  show ;  that  they  attested  their  principles  by  their  patches ; 
that  an  audience  would  sit  out  an  evening  to  hear  a  dramatical  per- 
formance written  in  a  language  which  they  did  not  understand ;  that 
chairs  and  flowerpots  were  introduced  as  actors  upon  the  British 
stage;  that  a  promiscuous  assembly  of  men  and  women  were  al- 
lowed to  meet  at  midnight  in  masks  within  the  verge  of  the  Court ; 
with  many  improbabilities  of  the  like  nature.  We  must,  therefore, 
in  these  and  in  the  like  cases,  suppose  that  these  remote  hints  and 
allusions  aimed  at  some  certain  follies  which  were  then  in  vogue, 
and  which  at  present  we  have  not  any  notion  of."  ^ 

His  power  of  ridiculing  keenly  without  malignity  is 
'  of  course  best  shown  in  his  character  of  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley,  whose  delightful  simplicity  of  mind  is  made 
the  medium  of  much  good-natured  satire  on  the  manliers 
of  the  Tory  country  gentlemen  of  the  period.  One  of 
the  most  exquisite  touches  is  the  description  of  the  extra- 
ordinary conversion  of  a  dissenter  by  the  Act  against 
Occasional  Conformity. 

"  He  (Sir  Roger)  then  launched  out  into  praise  of  the  late  Act  of 
Parliament  for  securing  the  Church  of  England,  and  told  me  with 
great  satisfaction  that  he  believed  it  already  began  to  take  effect,  for 
that  a  rigid  dissenter  who  chanced  to  dine  in  his  house  on  Christmas 
day  had  been  observed  to  eat  very  plentifully  of  his  plum-porridge.'"^ 

The  mixture  of  fashionable  contempt  for  book-learning, 
blended  with  shrewd  mother -wit,  is  well  represented  in 

1  Spectator,  No.  101.  2  /j^^,^  Xo.  269. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  Ill 

the  character  of  Will  Honeycomb,  who  "  had  the  discre- 
tion not  to  go  out  of  his  depth,  and  had  often  a  certain 
way  of  making  his  real  ignorance  appear  a  seeming  one." 
One  of  Will's  happiest  flights  is  on  the  subject  of  ancient 
looking-glasses.  "  Nay,"  says  he,  "  I  remember  Mr.  Dryden 
in  his  Ovid  tells  ns  of  a  swinging  fellow  called  Polypheme, 
that  made  use  of  the  sea  for  his  looking-glass,  and  could 
never  dress  himself  to  advantage  but  in  a  calm." 

Budgell,  Steele,  and  Addison  seem  all  to  have  worked 
on  the  character  of  Will  Honeycomb,  which,  however,  pre- 
sents none  of  the  inconsistencies  that  appear  in  the  por- 
trait of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  Addison  was  evidently 
pleased  with  it,  and  in  his  own  inimitable  ironic  man- 
ner gave  it  its  finishing  touches  by  making  'WiU,  in  his 
character  of  a  fashionable  gallant,  write  two  letters  scoff- 
ing at  wedlock  and  then  marry  a  farmer's  daughter.  The 
conclusion  of  the  letter  in  which  he  announces  his  fate 
to  the  Spectator  is  an  admirable  specimen  of  Addison's 
'humour: 

'  "As  for  your  fine  women  I  need  not  tell  thee  that  I  know  them. 
I  have  had  my  share  in  their  graces  ;  but  no  more  of  that.  It  shall 
be  my  business  hereafter  to  live  the  life  of  an  honest  man,  and  to 
act  as  becomes  the  master  of  a  family.  I  question  not  but  I  shall 
draw  upon  me  the  raillery  of  the  town,  and  be  treated  to  the  tune  of 
"  The  Marriage-hater  Matched  ;"  but  I  am  prepared  for  it.  I  have 
been  as  witty  as  others  in  my  time.  To  tell  thee  truly,  I  saw  such  a 
tribe  of  fashionable  young  fluttering  coxcombs  shot  up  that  I  do  not 
think  my  post  of  an  homme  de  ruelle  any  longer  tenable.  I  felt  a 
certain  stiffness  in  my  limbs  which  entirely  destroyed  the  jauntiness 
of  air  I  was  once  master  of.  Besides,  for  I  must  now  confess  my 
age  to  thee,  I  have  been  eight-and-forty  above  these  twelve  years. 
Since  my  retirement  into  the  country  will  make  a  vacancy  in  the 
Club,  I  could  wish  that  you  would  fill  up  my  place  with  my  friend  Tom 
Dapperwit.  He  has  an  infinite  deal  of  fire,  and  knows  the  town. 
For  my  own  part,  as  I  have  said  before,  T  shall  endeavour  to  live 


178  ADDISON.  [chap. 

hereafter  suitable  to  a  man  in  my  station,  as  a  prudent  head  of  a 
family,  a  good  husband,  a  careful  father  (when  it  shall  so  happen), 
and  as  Your  most  sincere  friend  and  humble  servant, 

"  William  Honeycomb."  ^ 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  delight  with  which  the 
fancy^of  Addison  played  round  the  paprip.es  of  female  f^t- 
tire.  The  following — an  extract  from  the  paper  on  the 
*'  fair  sex  "  which  specially  roused  the  spleen  of  Swift — is 
a  good  specimen  of  his  style  when  in  this  vein : 

"  To  return  to  our  female  heads.  The  ladies  have  been  for  some 
time  in  a  kind  of  moulting  season  with  regard  to  that  part  of  their 
dress,  having  cast  great  quantities  of  ribbon,  lace,  and  cambric,  and 
in  some  measure  reduced  that  part  of  the  human  figure  to  the  beau- 
tiful globular  form  which  is  natural  to  it.  We  have  for  a  great 
while  expected  what  kind  of  ornament  would  be  substituted  in  the 
place  of  those  antiquated  commodes.  But  our  female  projectors 
were  all  the  last  summer  so  taken  up  with  the  improvement  of  their 
petticoats  that  they  had  not  time  to  attend  to  anything  else ;  but  hav- 
ing at  length  sufficiently  adorned  their  lower  parts,  they  now  begin  to 
turn  their  thoughts  upon  the  other  extremity,  as  well  remembering 
the  old  kitchen  proverb, '  that  if  you  light  your  fire  at  both  ends,  the 
middle  will  shift  for  itself.' "  "^ 

Addison  may  be  said  to  have  almost  created  and  wholly 
perfected  English  prose  as  an  instrument  for  the  expres- 
sion of  social  thought.  Prose  had  of  course  been  written 
in  many  different  manners  before  his  time.  Bacon,  Cow- 
ley, and  Temple  had  composed  essays ;  Hooker,  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  Hobbes,  and  Locke  philosophical  treatises ;  Mil- 
ton controversial  pamphlets ;  Dryden  critical  prefaces  ;  Ra- 
leigh and  Clarendon  histories ;  Taylor,  Barrow,  South,  and 
Tillotson  sermons.  But  it  cannot  be  said  that  any  of  these 
had  founded  a  prose  style  which,  besides  being  a  reflec- 
tion of  the  mind  of  the  writer,  could  be  taken  as  repre- 
1  Spectator,  No.  580.  *^  Ibid.,  No.  265. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  179 

scnting  the  genius  and  character  of  the  nation.  They  write 
as  if  they  were  thinking  apart  from  their  audience,  or  as 
if  they  were  speaking  to  it  either  from  an  inferior  or  su- 
perior position.  The  essayists  had  taken  as  their  model 
Montaigne,  and  their  style  is  therefore  stamped,  so  to  speak, 
with  the  character  of  soliloquy ;  the  preachers,  who  per- 
haps did  more  than  any  writers  to  guide  the  genius  of 
the  language,  naturally  addressed  their  hearers  with  the  au- 
thority of  their  office ;  Milton,  even  in  controversy,  rises 
from  the  natural  sublimity  of  his  mind  to  heights  of  elo- 
quence to  which  the  ordinary  idioms  of  society  could  not 
have  borne  him ;  while  Dryden,  using  the  language  with 
a  raciness  and  rhythm  probably  unequalled  in  our  litera- 
ture, nevertheless  exhibits  in  his  prefaces  an  air  of  defer- 
ence tow^ards  the  various  patrons  he  addresses.  Moreover, 
many  of  the  earlier  prose  writers  had  aimed  at  standards 
of  diction  which  were  inconsistent  with  the  genius  of  the 
English  tongue.  Bacon,  for  instance,  disfigures  his  style  \ 
with  the  witty  antitheses  which  found  favour  with  the 
Elizabethan  and  early  Stuart  writers  ;  Hooker,  Milton,  and  ''■ 
Browne  construct  their  sentences  on  a  Latin  model,  which, 
though  it  often  gives  a  certain  dignity  of  manner,  prevents 
anything  like  ease,  simplicit}',  and  lucidity  of  expression. 
Thus  Hooker  delights  in  inversions;  both  he  and  Milton 
protract  their  periods  by  the  insertion  of  many  subordi- 
nate clauses ;  and  Browne  "  projicit  ampullas  et  sesquipe- 
dalia  verba"  till  the  Saxon  element  seems  almost  elimi- 
nated from  his  style. 

Addison  took  features  of  his  style  from  almost  all  his 
predecessors  :  he  assumes  the  characters  of  essayist,  moral- 
ist, philosopher,  and  critic,  but  he  blends  them  all  together 
in  his  new  capacity  of  journalist.  He  had  accepted  the 
public  as  his  judges  ;  and  he  writes  as  if  some  critical  rep- 


180      '  ADDISON.  [chap. 

resentativG  of  the  public  were  at  liis  elbow,  putting  to  the 
test  of  reason  every  sentiment  and  every  expression.  War- 
ton  tells  us,  in  his  Essay  on  Pope^  that  Addison  was  so  fas- 
tidious in  composition  that  he  would  often  stop  the  press 
to  alter  a  preposition  or  conjunction ;  and  this  evidence 
is  corroborated  in  a  very  curious  and  interesting  manner 
by  the  MS.  of  some  of  Addison's  essays,  discovered  by 
Mr.  Dykes  Campbell  in  1858.^  A  sentence  in  one  of  the 
papers  on  the  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination  shows,  by  the 
various  stages  through  which  it  passed  before  its  form 
seemed  satisfactory  to  the  writer,  what  nice  attention  be 
gave  to  the  balance,  rhythm,  and  lucidity  of  his  periods. 
In  its  original  shape  the  sentence  was  written  thus : 

"  For  this  reason  we  find  the  poets  always  crying  up  a  Country 
Life  ;  where  Nature  is  left  to  herself,  and  appears  to  y^  best  advan- 
tage." 

This  is  rather  bald,  and  the  MS.  is  accordingly  corrected 
as  follows : 

"  For  this  reason  we  find  all  Fanciful!  men,  and  y^  poets  in  par- 
ticular, still  in  love  with  a  Country  Life ;  where  Nature  is  left  to 
herself,  and  furnishes  out  all  y«  variety  of  Scenes  y*  are  most  de- 
lightful to  y^  Imagination." 

The  text  as  it  stands  is  this : 

"  For  this  reason  we  always  find  the  poet  in  love  with  a  country 
life,  where  nature  appears  in  the  greatest  perfection,  and  furnishes 
out  all  those  scenes  that  are  most  apt  to  delight  the  imagination."  ' 

This  is  certainly  the  best,  both  in  point  of  sense  and 
sound.  Addison  perceived  that  there  was  a  certain  con- 
tradiction in  the  idea  of  Nature  being  "  left  to  herself," 

*  I  have  to  thank  Mr.  Campbell  for  his  kindness  and  courtesy  in 
sending  me  the  volume  containing  this  collection. 
^  Spectator^  No.  414. 


IX.]  HIS  GENIUS.  181 

and  at  the  same  WmQ  furnishing  scenes  for  the  pleasure 
of  tlie  imagination  ;  he  therefore  imparted  the  notion  of 
design  by  striking  out  the  former  phrase  and  substituting 
"  seen  in  perfection ;"  and  he  emphasised  the  idea  by  af- 
terwards changing  "delightful"  into  the  stronger  phrase 
"  apt  to  delight."  The  improvement  of  the  rhythm  of  the 
sentence  in  its  final  form  is  obvious. 

With  so  much  elaboration  of  style  it  is  natural  that  there 
should  be  in  Addison's  essays  a  disappearance  of  that  ego- 
tism which  is  a  characteristic — and  a  charming  one — of 
Montaigne  ;  his  moralising  is  natural,  for  the  age  required 
it,  but  is  free  from  the  censoriousness  of  the  preacher ; 
liis  critical  and  philosophical  papers  all  assume  an  intelli- 
gence in  his  reader  equal  to  his  own. 

This  perfection  of  breeding  in  writing  is  an  art  which 
vanishes  with  the  Tatler  and  Spectator,  Other  critics, 
other  humourists  have  made  their  mark  in  English  litera- 
ture, but  no  second  Addison  has  appeared.  Johnson  took 
him  for  his  model  so  far  as  to  convey  lessons  of  morality 
to  the  public  by  means  of  periodical  essays.  But  he  con- 
fesses that  he  addressed  his  audience  in  tones  of  **  dicta- 
torial instruction ;"  and  any  one  who  compares  the  pon- 
derous sententiousness  and  the  elaborate  antithesis  of  the 
Rambler  with  the  lig^TmnTT5r~Thjthmical  periods  of  the 
Spectator  will  perceive  that-tha~spirit  of  preaching  is  gain- 
ing ground  on  the  genius^f  conversation.  Charles  Lamb, 
again,  has  passages  which,  for  mere  delicacy  of  humour, 
are  equal  to  anything  in  Addison's  writings.  But  the 
superiority  of  Addison  consists  in  this,  that  he  expresses 
the  humour-ef-the  Tif^  about  him,  while  Lambis^~driven  to 
look  at  its  oddities  from  outside.  He  is  not,  like  Addi- 
son, a  moralist  or  a  satirist ;  the  latter  indeed  performed 
his  task  so  thoroughly  that  the  turbulent  license  of  Mo- 


182  ADDISON.  [chap.  ix. 

hocks,  Titjre  Tiis,  and  sucli  like  brotherhoods,  gradually 
disappeared  before  the  advance  of  a  tame  and  orderly 
public  opinion.  To  Lamb,  looking  back  on  the  prim- 
itive stages  of  society  from  a  safe  distance,  vice  itself 
seemed  pardonable  because  picturesque,  much  in  the  same 
way  as  travellers  began  to  admire  the  loneliness  and  the 
grandeur  of  nature  when  they  were  relieved  from  appre- 
hensions for  the  safety  of  their  purses  and  their  necks. 
His  humour  is  that  of  a  sentimentalist;  it  dwells  on  odd 
nooks  and  corners,  and  describes  quaint  survivals  in  men 
and  things.  For  our  own  age,  when  all  that  is  picturesque 
in  society  is  being  levelled  by  a  dull  utilitarianism,  this 
vein  of  eccentric  imagination  has  a  special  charm,  but 
the  taste  is  likely  to  be  a  transient  one.  Mrs.  Battle  will 
amuse  so  long  as  this  generation  remembers  the  ways  of 
its  grandmothers :  two  generations  hence  the  point  of  its 
humour  will  probably  be  lost.  But  the  figure  of  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley,  though  it  belongs  to  a  bygone  stage  of  so- 
ciety, is  as  durable  as  human  nature  itself,  and,  while  the 
language  lasts,  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  colours  in  which 
it  is  preserved  will  excite  the  same  kind  of  pleasure. 
Scarcely  below  the  portrait  of  the  good  knight  will  be 
ranked  the  character  of  his  friend  and  biographer,  the 
silent  Spectator  of  men.  A  grateful  posterity,  remember- 
ing what  it  owes  to  him,,will  continue  to  assign  him  the 
reputation  he  coveted  vJ^It  was  said  of  Socrates  that  he 
brought  Philosophy  down  from  heaven  to  inhabit  among 
men  ;  and  I  shall  be  ambitious  to  have  it  said  of  me  that 
I  have  brought  Philosophy  out  of  closets  and  libraries, 
schools  and  colleges,  to  dwell  at  club^  and  assemblies,  at 
tea-tables  and  in  coffee-houses." 


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